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3jS 

Boy Scouts of the Air Books ^ ^ 

The Boy Scouts of the Air 
in Indian Land 



Boy Scouts 
of the Air Books 

By GORDON STUART 

Are stirring stories of adven- 
ture in which real boys, clean- 
cut and wide-awake, do the 
things other wide-awake boys 
like to read about. 


Four titles, 
per volume, 
6o cents 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR AT 
EAGLE CAMP 

THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR AT 
GREENWOOD SCHOOL 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR IN 
INDIAN LAND 


THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR IN 
NORTHERN V7ILDS 


Splendid Illustrations by Norman Hall 


Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 



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They cre])t, wriggled and crawled toward the machine The 
air was stifling and they could hardly breathe, but, groping in 
the smohe nnd darkness. Car] finally got his hands on the truck. 


The 

Boy Scouts of the Air 
in Indian Land 


BY 

GORDON STUART 
U 


Illustrated by Norman P. Hall 


The Reilly k Britton Co. 
Chicago 





\ 


COPYRIGHT, 1912 

by 

THE REILLY & BRITTON CO. 



THE BOY SCOUTS OF THE AIR IN INDIAN LAND 




fcCi.A316675 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER page 

I A Ride and a Runaway 9 

II The Destroyer 25 

III The Legend of the Thunder Bird. . 37 

IV An Aviator Appears 51 

V At THE B. P. Ranch 63 

VI Winning an Aeroplane 75 

VII In the Mountains 88 

VIII The Storm 100 

IX A Strange Meeting 113 

X The Patrol Becomes a Fact 125 

XI A Surprise for Mr. Phipps 137 

XII The Thunder Bird Attacks 149 

XIII At Work on the Aeroplane 161 

XIV The Fire 172 

XV Repairing the Plane 184 

XVI The First Flight 194 

XVII In Sight of the Enemy 204 

XVIII Success at Last 215 

XIX Jumping a Peak 227 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


They crept, wriggled and crawled toward the 
machine. The air was stifling and they could 
hardly breathe, but, groping in the smoke 
and darkness, Carl finally got his hands on 
the truck. Frontispiece 

‘‘ Now, scouts,” said Mr. Hawke, amused at 
their excited exclamations, ‘‘ wefll put this 
together, and Ifll show you the model of 
the ^ Thunder Bird Aeroplane.’ ” Page 58 

Carl stopped short. In front of him stood a 
tall, stately, blanketed Indian, His whole 
face was hideously painted in various colors, 
and his countenance was set and expression- 
less. Page 118 

The struggle promised to be a long and hard 
one if Carl were left to fight it alone. But 
this the other boys did not propose to allow, 
and they immediately began to cross on the 
rope ladder. Page 228 





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Boy Scouts of the Air 
In Indian Land 

CHAPTER I 

A BIDE AND A KUNA WAY 

There she comes/’ exclaimed a boy, one of a 
crowd awaiting the evening train in the hot little 
box of a depot at Silver City, New Mexico. A 
speck of yellow had suddenly appeared far down 
the light, worn rails to the east. Fifty loungers 
moved forward. The evening train was coming 
at last. 

‘ ^ If mother don ’t look out, ’ ’ added the speaker, 
who was a tall, slender young chap with strik- 
ingly black hair and eyes, ‘‘ she’ll miss the train 
an’ the folks that are coming. Mother seems to 
like to be late — always. ’ ’ 

Don’t get excited, Jerry,” broke in a second 
boy, this one with big shoulders, a square de- 
termined face with a winning smile, and, his chief 
characteristic, a big mop of yellow hair. I 
think Ike and your mother are coming right 
now.” 


9 


10 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

While the headlight was yet only a growing 
star oa the far-away plain, a military hack, drawn 
by two nervous horses in charge of a colored sol- 
dier in uniform, dashed up to the now lively depot 
in a cloud of dust. 

Those awaiting the arrival of the train made 
a fair picture of the people living in that part of 
the half-desert Southwest. There were miners, 
soldiers, sheepmen, freighters, loafers not easily 
classified, and the usual mixture of Mexicans and 
civilized Indians. The arrival of the train meant 
little to any of these except that it brought the 
daily mail, strangers in the shape of prospectors, 
or drummers who might spend a few dollars, and 
nearly always some one going to the Fort. 

All soldiers know Fort Bayard. It isnT a real 
fort any more, although a few cannon sit idly 
about the big white stockade and new brick build- 
ings, but the tired and sick soldier in the Phil- 
ippines, in California or in New York, knows that 
here, when all else fails, he may be sent to find 
rest and new health. Uncle Sam has selected the 
old post as the best place in the United States to 
put new life into his ailing soldiers. 

That’s why, the Indian and his troubles having 


In Indian Land 


11 


disappeared, and consequently the need for armed 
militia, that old Fort Bayard has been dismantled, 
new buildings put up, and the old structures re- 
paired and whitewashed and put in charge of a 
medical staff. 

Here, at the time of this story. Captain H. Wil- 
mot Crawford was in charge of the Post, he and 
his under officers and the medical staff living 
apart with their families in their own homes. 
This made the Post quite a settlement. The Port 
was six miles from Silver City. Every foot of the 
intervening military road climbed upward to the 
big plateau, high and dry, and looking in all direc- 
tions toward the still higher mountain ranges. 
The Post was an ideal home for the officers de- 
tailed there. 

The lady in the hack that had reached the sta- 
tion just as the train arrived was Mrs. Wilmot 
Crawford, wife of the Post commandant. She 
was also the mother of the first boy speaker, 
Gerald Crawford, commonly known as Jerry. 

The interest of Mrs. Crawford and the two boys 
in the approaching train was due to the fact that 
on it Mrs. Windham of Cleveland and her son 
Fred were passengers. Mrs. Windham was com- 


12 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


ing to visit Mrs. Crawford, her old schoolgirl 
friend, and, as her son was with her, it meant a 
hoy to join the Post quartette of kids. That his 
coming was eagerly anticipated by the boys at the 
station was indicated by the actions of the latter. 

I s’pose Windham wonT think this is much 
of a place,’’ remarked a third boy as Jerry Craw- 
ford sprang to attend on his mother. After 
living in a big city like Cleveland, I reckon he’ll 
think this is rotten,” went on the boy. ‘‘ I hope 
he ain’t stuck up, Dunk. It wouldn’t seem just 
right to take a fall out of Jerry’s guest.” 

‘‘ Say,” answered the boy addressed as Dunk, 
grabbing the speaker by the arm. Then Dunk 
stopped, thrust his hands deep in his pockets and 
said, with emphasis, If I were you, Fly, I 
wouldn’t fret about our new friend liking us or 
the place. He ain’t visitin’ to our houses. It’s 
up to Jerry to entertain him an’ keep him right. 
But, as far as that goes, he may take to it like 
that New York kid who’s over to Brett’s ranch. 
Graystock just took one look at a cow pony and 
the mountains and gave it out cold he didn’t care 
whether he ever went back to New York. And 
New York’s a heap sight bigger than Cleveland.” 


In Indian Land 


13 


‘‘ I ain’t looking for trouble, ” protested the boy 
addressed as Fly. ‘‘ But I hope he’s all right. 
The summer’s pretty long down here, and they 
ain’t many of us. So, what there are of us ought 
to be right if we’re goin’ to pull together.” 

Little did any of the boys think when they 
heard that a Fred Windham was to arrive from 
Cleveland, what a whirl of events was to arrive 
with him! Mrs. Windham’s doctors had advised 
her to go to New Mexico. Jerry, Dunk and Fly 
had driven over in a four-horse freight wagon 
from the Post. Mrs. Crawford had come to Silver 
City earlier in the day to do some shopping. As 
Mrs. Crawford dashed up to the station, the dusty ^ 
but well appointed hack, the spirited horses and 
Mrs. Crawford’s half western, snappy costume in- 
dicated that life at the Post was probably not 
without pleasures of its own. In fact, an invita- 
tion from one of the Post families to spend a few 
weeks at Fort Bayard in the summer was gen- 
erally considered a special favor. 

With a growing rumble and spreading glare of 
light the swaying train at last stopped before the 
station. Jerry darted from his mother and with 
his two companions was at once lost in the crowd. 


14 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Mrs. Crawford remained in the hack awaiting her 
old friend. There was so much confusion on the 
platform that, at first, the expected guests were 
not seen. 

Jerry separated from his crowd, but, not know- 
ing the Windhams by sight, he had not much hope 
of recognizing them. However, seeing a rather 
undersized boy before him, he raised his voice 
without hesitation. 

‘ ‘ Say, your name Windham ? ’ ^ 

You bet! The other’s face broke into a 
smile. “ You’re Crawford? Glad to meet you. 
Here’s my mother, Crawford.” 

Come right along,” laughed Jerry, after 
shaking hands. “ My mother’s right over here.” 

He led them out of the crowd, and a moment 
later the two ladies greeted each other while Jerry 
introduced his friends to the northerner. 

Fred Windham was small for his age, but this 
was offset by a striking face. High forehead, 
twinkling gray eyes with flecks of brown in them, 
a mouth and jaw like a steel trap, and quick, firm 
handclasp won him a place at once among the 
other boys. Fly seemed satisfied. 

Mrs. Windham met the boys; then the two 


In Indian Land 


15 


ladies entered the hack. Evidently Mrs. Craw- 
ford’s guest expected her son to follow her. 

Oh, he’ll drive with the boys,” laughed Mrs. 
Crawford, “ unless he’s afraid of the jolting.” 

“ Sure I will I ” grinned Fred. If it’s all 
right with you fellows? ” 

What do you think we’re here for? ” re- 
sponded Dunk, vigorously. 

Go ahead, Ike. We’ll load up the trucks and 
be right behind.” 

The hack started otf with lighted lamps, while 
the four boys got the Windham trunks and piled 
into the waiting freight wagon on top of them, 
Jerry taking the reins. 

The boys in the freighter escorting Fred Wind- 
ham up the mountain road to Fort Bayard were 
members of the Post quartette. The fourth mem- 
ber of the gang, however, although a constant 
comrade and companion of the three who had gone 
to meet Windham, was an Indian — an Apache 
boy known as Carlito. The other lads were Gerald 
Crawford, son of the Post commandant; Dun»can 
Elvers or ‘‘ Dunk,” son of Lieutenant Eivers of 
the Post staff, and Art Giles, known as Fly for 
reasons that will sooti be apparent. There were 


16 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

other boys in the neighborhood, however. One 
of them was Herb Phipps, the son of the owner of 
the big B. P. ranch five miles east of Fort Bayard, 
and another was his cousin Howard Graystock, 
already mentioned by Dunk. Art Giles was not 
the son of an officer; his father was post mechanic, 
and the boy, brought up with little schooling, had 
known no life but that of the West. He was 
straightforward, impetuous and full of enthu- 
siasm. His red hair was no untrue index of a 
sunny and lively disposition. More than one boy^s 
share of freckles was distributed over his bright, 
frank face. 

Jerry’s four horses were headed toward the 
Post plateau with its picturesque mountains and 
deserts to the north and west. The road was 
rough. It was now pitch dark, for there was no 
moon, and a slight haze somewhat obscured the 
brilliant stars. Jerry soon caught up with the 
lights of the hack, and then his team jogged along 
a few yards behind. 

Say, Windy,” began Dunk, giving Fred the 
most natural nickname that occurred to him, 

it’s all in the family now, so just wise up that 
I’m Dunk, Gerald’s Jerry and Art’s Fly.” 


In Indian Land 


17 


Much obliged/^ said Fred pleasantly. I^m 
used to Windy, but why the Fly? 

Oh, those boneheads know IVe been studyin’ 
aeroplanes,” answered Art. “ Say, I clean for- 
got to tell you guys that Tender Gray called up 
this afternoon and we’re all going over to-mor- 
row. ’ ’ 

Aeroplanes? ” repeated Windy, the new- 
comer impolitely ignoring the message from 
Tender Gray. How can you study aeroplanes 
way down here almost out of all creation? ” 

“ Easy,” answered Fly. ‘‘IVe never seen a 
real flying machine but I guess every boy’s got 
some angle. My father takes a big English maga- 
zine about flying machines.” 

“And Eed-head’s gone crazy over them,” ex- 
claimed Dunk. “You ought to see the fine little 
machine he made a couple of months ago. He 
made it just from reading about them in books, 
and it was a dandy too. Of course it wouldn’t fly. 
but it looked just like an aeroplane. ’ ’ 

“I’d rather see a real one than find a silver 
mine,” announced young Giles promptly. “ But 
nothin’ doin’ in airships on this plateau.” 

“ They’re great,” broke in Windham. “I’ve 


18 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

seen a lot of them. Who’s Tender Gray? ” he con- 
cluded with boyish curiosity, recalling that Fly 
had mentioned another lad. 

Oh,” answered Dunk Eivers, Jerry being 
busy with the horses, ‘‘he’s a cousin of Herb 
Phipps. Mr. Phipps is the richest man in this 
part of the country. I guess he’s a millionaire. 
They live over here about £ve miles east on the 
big home ranch. Mr. Phipps goes in for sheep 
you know. But he’s got a lot of sheep ranches, 
and mines too. They call the one over east the 
B. P. ranch. That’s the brand too. Of course it 
means Brett Phipps, Mr. Phipps’ name. But we 
all call it the Bread Pudding ranch. ’ ’ 

“ What’s the cousin’s name? ” went on Wind- 
ham, pulling off his light straw hat to keep it from 
blowing away as the big freight wagon rolled up- 
ward on the mountain road. 

“ Oh,” answered Dunk, “ he’s Tender Gray. 
His name’s Howard Graystock. We call him 
Tender Gray because he’s what they call a Boy 
Scout up there in New York.” 

“ Boy Scout,” almost shouted Windham. 
“ Why, I’m one of them myself. I want to know 
Graystock, you bet.” 


In Indian Land 


19 


“ That won’t be hard to do,” broke in Fly. 

Him and Herb are over to the Post about half 
the time. And anyway, we’re to go over to the 
B. P. to-morrow.” 

I suppose you call him Tender Gray because 
he’s a tenderfoot scout,” remarked Windham. 

I reckon,” chuckled Duncan. That or be- 
cause he’s tender on the subject of Boy Scouts. 
He’s sure a bug on that question. But you’ll like 
both the B. P. kids. Herb goes to college every 
winter.” 

You say you’re a Boy Scout, too,” called back 
J erry over his shoulder. 

Yes, I’m a Boy Scout, first class, and I’ve got 
the badges to prove it too.” 

What are they? ” inquired Dunk eagerly. 

‘ ‘ One ’s for athletics — basketball ’s my game — 
one’s for handicraft, and the other — ’’Fred 
paused an instant with a smile — ‘‘the other’s 
for aviation.” 

There was a gasp of surprise, then Fly stuck a 
hand across the trunks. “ Shake old man! ” he 
cried. They shook hands solemnly. 

For some minutes, while Jerry’s team lunged 
ahead and the freight wagon swung like a vessel 


20 


The Boy Scouts, of the Air 


adrift, Windliam and Fly forgot even Boy Scout 
matters. But there was no time for prolonged 
talk, although each boy related what he had 
studied on the subject of aviation. The exhilara- 
tion of the ride was too much. 

“ Tell you what,’’ Windham almost shouted, 
‘‘I’m certainly glad to get out here. Airships, 
Boy Scouts and a ranch too — Whoopee! Eeal 
cowpunchers and roundups! ” 

He paused as a shout of laughter went up. 

“ Wait tiU we put Herb next! ” gasped Jerry. 
“ Wow! Ain’t that a peach though. Cowpunch- 
ers! ” 

“ Well, I’ll bite,” exclaimed Fred. “ What’s 
the joke? ” 

“ Eoundups! ” shouted Hunk. “ Eoundups 
and cowpunchers! Why, Brett Phipps ain’t got a 
puncher on the place ! ’ ’ 

“ Thought you said it was a ranch,” protested 
Fred. 

“It is,” explained Jerry. “ Sheep ranch 
though. All the punchers you’ll see will be 
Greaser sheep herders. ’Bout a million sheep on 
the Bread Puddin’ — Hello! See that? ” 

“ What? ” cried the others. 


In Indian Land 


21 


‘‘Look out!’’ yelled Windham suddenly. 
Everybody dodged as a great gray and white 
shape drove down through the air beside them 
and was gone on the instant. A shriek went up 
from the hack in front, followed by a wild shout 
from Ike. 

“ Eunaway! ” cried Dunk. “ After ’em 
Jerry! ” 

The latter needed no urging. He had already 
caught a glimpse of Ike’s form falling headlong 
from the hack seat as the two terrified horses 
plunged into headlong flight. With a shout of 
encouragement to his mother and Mrs. Windham, 
Jerry doubled the reins and lashed his four horses 
into a run, barely missing Ike’s body as he 
passed it. 

“ What was it? ” called Dunk, between jolts. 

“ I couldn’t see,” shouted Jerry. 

The hack before them was careering madly over 
the sand and stones. The glimmering lamps 
showed the sweating flanks of the two horses that 
were running frantically. The freight team be- 
hind gained rapidly, however, and slowly drew 
abreast of the runaways. Jerry was urging his 
horses on with hat and reins when a dark shadow 


22 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


threw itself at the forward team. Something 
seized the bridles and hung there, dragging down 
the horses^ heads, and Jerry barely managed to 
draw up his four as the hack stopped abruptly. 

Instantly the boys were helping Mrs. Crawford 
and Mrs. Windham to the ground. Assured of 
their safety Jerry and Dunk ran to the heads of 
the hack team. 

CarlitoJ’ cried Jerry, gripping the shoulder 
of the slim young fellow who stood there. Old 
man, I’m — I — dam it all, come on back! ” 

It’s Carlito, mother,” he shouted, dragging 
the reluctant young figure with him. ‘‘ Carl 
stopped ’em! ” 

The rescuer reached for his sombrero, which 
had fallen from his head, as Mrs. Crawford held 
out her hand. 

“ You are a brave boy, Carlito! ” she said 
gravely, her face pale. ‘‘ You’ve saved us all, I 
guess. Mrs. Windham, this is Carlito, one of the 
finest boys at the Post.” 

As their rescuer turned, his face came into the 
light of the lamps, and Mrs. Windham' started, for 
she saw he was an Indian. Quickly recovering, 
she thanked him warmly. 


In Indian Land 


23 


‘‘ It wasn’t much,” said Carlito, smiling com- 
posedly. ^ ‘ The horses were stopping them- 
selves. ’ ’ 

Not on your life they weren’t! ” cried Dunk, 
hotly. Jump in and go with us to the fort, 
Carl.” 

Can’t. Going to town,” replied Carl, putting 
his hands to his mouth and emitting a strange 
sound. There was an answering whinny and he 
walked in the direction from which it came. 

That’s the way he finds his pony at night, or 
when he doesn’t know just where it is. He cer- 
tainly can make it loud too, when he wants to,” 
explained Jerry. 

As Carlito started down the road, he met Ike 
loping along rather lamely. 

Anybody hurt,” gasped the driver as soon as 
he was within hearing distance. 

No. How about yourself,” Jerry answered, 
surprised and at the same time relieved to see the 
darky had not sustained any injury. 

Oh, I’m tough,” grinned the driver, resuming 
his seat. Say, what was dat thing? I heard a 
rush and somethin’ soft give me a swipe in de 
face jest as the bosses broke, an’ over I goes.” 


24 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Was it in the air? ’’ asked Dunk. Bird 
mebbe. ^ ’ 

Bird nothin contradicted Jerry. It felt 
a heap bigger ^n any bird I ever heard of.’’ 

By this time the ladies had again taken their 
places in the hack and Ike took up the reins. 

Better come along, Carlito,” urged Fly, but 
the Indian boy shook his head. 

See you at the B. P. ranch to-morrow,” he 
said. Get there about eleven and you’ll hear 
something worth while. So long.” And the 
Apache sprang on his pony and disappeared into 
the night. 


CHAPTEE II 

THE DESTKOYEE 

Who^s that good-lookin’ Indian, Jerry? ” 
asked Fred, as the light of Fort Bayard came into 
sight. 

‘‘ Araviapa Apache,” came the reply. He’s 
been chasing around the Post ’most all his life. 
Came from the San Carlos agency, I guess, so 
folks called him Carl. Used to be a Dutchman 
named Carl here, and the Greasers called the In- 
jun Carlito, or Little Carl. He goes by both 
names. He’s the cool guy, you bet, and a wise 
one, too.” 

‘ ‘ But what does he do ? ” persisted the practical 
Fred. He can’t live on air, can he? Does he get 
his living for nothing? ” 

^ ‘ Don ’t you think it ! Not him, ’ ’ returned Dunk 
warmly. ‘ ‘ He does a lot of work for us — trailin ’, 
and things like that. He’s a bird at it.” 

Yes, and he’s learned to read and write,” 
added Fly. You kids ought to see some of the 
books and stuff he’s got.” 

25 


26 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


There was no more time for conversation, as 
they now drew into the Post grounds and drove 
up to the house occupied by the Crawfords, where 
the guests were to stay. The captain and two or 
three of his brother officers met the new arrivals. 
At the tale of the runaway there was great excite- 
ment on the veranda and Captain Crawford called 
Ike up from the drive. After examining the 
teamster and the boys, he gave up the effort he 
was making to solve the mystery of the runaway. 

It must have been a bird,’’ laughed Dr. 
Eivers, who bore the title of lieutenant. 

That seems to be the only explanation,” ad- 
mitted the captain. ‘‘ Are you sure the thing hit 
you, Ike? ” 

Yessah,” maintained the teamster stoutly. 

It was the s ’prise more’n anythin’ else that 
knocked me off, Cap’n. Felt like a bird, though.” 

It was too large, father,” protested Jerry. 

There ain’t no bird as big as that. . Mebbe it 
was an aeroplane. ’ ’ 

The officers laughed, but Jerry stuck to it that 
the thing ” was not a bird. The examination 
ended in nothing. The boys had brought the mail 
over with them, so as soon as the ladies had re- 


In Indian Land 


27 


tired the officers went over to the quartermaster’s 
office while the four boys separated for the night. 

The next day was a perfect one such as only the 
New Mexican hills can produce. To the north and 
west of Fort Bayard stretched a wilderness of 
deep valleys and mountain peaks as far as the Rio 
Gila. The Bread Pudding ranch, as the Circle B 
P was locally known, lay five miles to the east. 

After breakfasting, Fred and his mother were 
driven around the garrison. There was plenty to 
be seen, and neither Jerry nor Fred realized how 
the time was flying until Dunk approached. 

‘‘ Hey, Jerry,” called the latter, with some 
show of indignation. What’s the mater with 
you? We’ve been waiting more’n an hour.” 

After hastily explaining to the older members 
of the party that they were going over to the 
ranch for the day, Jerry and Fred accompanied 
Dunk to the stables. Here they found Fly and 
Carlito waiting and after saddling up they speed- 
ily left Fort Bayard behind. 

‘‘ Ever ride much? ” asked Dunk, seeing that 
Fred experienced a little difficulty with his 
saddle. 

“Sure, lots! ” replied the Cleveland boy. 


28 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Never ran up against this kind of saddle, 
though. Spanish, ain^t it? 

Used to be,’^ grinned Jerry. Good U. S. 
now. Say, Garlito, what was that thing that 
scared our horses last night? 

You’ll hear more of that when we get to the 
ranch, ’ ’ replied the Apache, looking away. Fred 
noticed that Garlito spoke slowly and used exact 
English, probably gained from books. ‘ ^ I do not 
know what it was but — 

Well, but what? ” prodded Dunk. 

‘ ^ I think it must have been the Thunder Biird ! ’ ’ 
concluded Garlito. 

A shout went up from all except Fred, who 
asked wonderingly what the Thunder Bird was. 

‘‘It’s one of the old Injun gods, Windy,” ex- 
plained Dunk. “ He made the lightning and 
thunder and had something to do with the rain 
and crops. General boss of the gods, wasn’t he, 
Garlo? ” 

“ Pretty near,” nodded the Apache gravely. 
“ The Thunder Bird not only represented the 
Deity but he had great power over rain, which is 
important in this part of the country. Our people 
used to have great sacrifices to him twice a year.” 


c 


In Indian Land 


29 


Human sacrifices? asked Fred innocently. 
At this even Carlito burst out laughing. 

^ ^ Where I off now ? ’ ’ cried Fred. 

^ ‘ There were no human sacrifices, ’ ^ replied the 
Indian hoy. ^ ‘ Only the Aztecs used to have them. 
Our people and the other Apaches, the Navajos, 
Moqui and neighboring tribes used to appoint 
deputies twice each year. They’d go to a certain 
place where the medicine men went through elab- 
orate rituals, the deputies representing the tribes. 
No people is so symbolical as we are — or were. 
I mean by that in religious rites. For instance, 
every line of paint and every article used has a 
symbolical and often mystical meaning. ’ ’ 

That Gov’ment shark from Washington,” 
said Jerry, who was here last summer, knew a 
lot about that. He sent dad one of his books, and 
the whole thing explained a single six-day Zuni 
corn feast ! ’ ’ 

‘‘ Say, speed up, fellows. You jog along as 
though we had all day and to-morrow,” and Fly 
spurred up his pony, calling back, Eace you to 
the turn of the road.” 

For a few minutes the boys made the dust fly, 
and, despite the good start Fly had made. Windy 


30 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

came in first with Cariito a close second. They 
kept np a brisk canter all the way to the ranch. 

‘‘ Here come the other fellows, Windy, said 
Dunk, as they reached the B. P. Windy saw two 
horses leave the corral now only a few hundred 
feet away. The two approached at a gallop and a 
moment later met the Post boys with a yell. One 
of the B. P. boys was roughly and carelessly 
dressed and was brown as an Indian. He was in- 
troduced to Fred as Herb Phipps. The second 
wore a Boy Scout tenderfoot emblem on his flannel 
shirt. This was Howard Gray stock, the New 
Yorker. His face lit up as he saw the first-class 
and merit badges that decorated Fred’s shirt. 

How long you been a scout, Windham? ” he 
asked as the party whirled and rode up to the 
corral. 

’Bout three years,” replied Fred, dismount- 
ing. 

Wish I was first-class! ” rejoined Gray. I 
swore in about a week before I come out here.” 
He lowered his voice slightly, Say, you back me 
an’ Phipps up strong, will you? Don’t say any- 
thing — you’ll see pretty quick.” 

Fred laughed assent as all dismounted, and they 


In Indian Land 


31 


joined the others. After turning the horses into 
the corral the party started up to the house but 
were stopped by a hail. Looking around, they 
saw a large man striding around the opposite end 
of the corral. The boys from the Fort gave him 
a shout of greeting and all waited for him to 
come up. 

Brett Phipps was big in every sense of the word. 
He had fought his way up from cowpuncher to 
millionaire by sheer strength of will and brains. 
Although he had started on a Texas ranch and 
fully shared the prejudices of the cow-men against 
the sheep-men, he realized that there was big 
money in sheep. Therefore he had started the 
large Circle B. P. sheep ranch near Fort Bayard 
where there was good water, although he owned a 
large cow range in the Taos country as well. 

Like the boys he was dressed in flannel shirt 
and wide Stetson. Over his trousers he wore 
chaps of plain leather, to protect his clothes from 
the wear of the saddle, and his legs from rattlers. 
He greeted the party vigorously. 

“ Well, I’m sure glad to see yuh, boys! Hullo, 
new member? Windham? Glad to meet yuh! 


32 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Hang up on the veranda, boys, till I get these 
chaps off. Eight back.’’ 

He disappeared inside the house, and the boys 
‘‘ hung up ” on the wide veranda which was lit- 
tered with canvas, reed and other easy-chairs. In- 
deed, the veranda of the ranch-house served 
largely as an office and living room combined. 
Both Mr. Phipps and the boys spent a large share 
of their time there. 

In a few moments the rancher returned minus 
his chaps, followed by a Chinaman, the ranch- 
house cook, who greeted the boys with a cheerful 
grin of recognition. 

What’ll it be? ” inquired Mr. Phipps, as he 
sank into a big chair and glanced around. 

‘‘ Lemonade! ” arose the shout, and the 
‘‘ Chink ” vanished. 

‘ ‘ Carl hinted last night that you had something 
special on. Herb,” began Dunk to the rancher’s 
son. Herb grinned and looked at his father. 

Not me,” he said. ‘‘ I reckon dad has some- 
thin’ under his hat, though.” 

At this moment the Celestial returned with a 
gigantic olla or Mexican jar full of lemonade, to- 
gether with glasses. 


In Indian Land 


33 


“ Well, John, didn^t take you long,’^ said Mr. 
Phipps, as he tossed off a glass with a sigh of sat- 
isfaction. 

Him all leddy,” grinned the Chinaman. 

Let’s get together, boys,” commanded Mr. 
Phipps, with a sweep of his broad hand. IVe 
got to get over to Three Mile Crick after lunch, so 
I reckon we’ll hold a confab right now.” 

The boys hitched their chairs up closer to Mr. 
Phipps and the lemonade, and when their glasses 
had been refilled the ranchman continued. 

‘‘ Mebbe y’all don’t know it, but there’s been 
a lot o’ devilment goin’ on for quite a spell back. 
We’ve kep’ it dark, hopin’ to catch whoever done 
it, but no chance. There’s somethin’ or some one 
raisin’ Cain with my sheep. We’ve missed a lot 
o’ lambs, plumb gone. We’ve found sheep with 
pieces o’ their backs clean tom out, an’ last 
week I come across a big ram all smashed to bits 
like he’d been dropped off a cliff. 

‘‘ Night ’fore last young Morales who has a hut 
ten mile north of here, hears somethin’ doin’ and 
mshes out of his hut. Bein’ a Greaser he don’t 
know any better than to yell. Somethin’ jabs him 
in the shoulder and he lets off his sixgun. Then, 


34 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

he swears he heard wings an’ was carried np in 
the air for a minute and was dropped. O ’ course 
all that’s pure guff — yuh can’t believe what a 
Greaser says nohow. But Jap Fisher, my fore- 
man, finds him yesterday lyin’ with his leg broke, 
a couple hundred yards from the hut.” 

Mebbe he wasn’t lyin’, Mr. Phipps! ” broke 
in Jerry excitedly. “ Listen.” And he rapidly 
sketched their adventure of the night before. It 
was now the turn of Herb and Gray to stare, 
while Mr. Phipps listened in growing surprise. 

“ Jehosaphat! ” he exclaimed when Jerry fin- 
ished. That sure beats me! I figured Morales 
was doin’ a heap o’ fabricatin’, but he may ’a’ 
told the truth for once. Anyhow, here’s what I 
had in mind. Gray has been fillin’ me and Herb 
up with his Boy Scout stuff, so I want to know 
why y’all don’t get busy? If yuh will, I’ll put up 
for the equipment on condition that yuh get right 
after what’s raisin’ thunder with them sheep. 
You boys have a heap o’ time hangin’ heavy on 
your young hands, and yuh might as well be doin’ 
somethin’ useful. It’ll save me bringin’ in a lot 
o’ men from Silver City, an’ as far as brain goes 
yuh ’ll have ’em beat a mile. How about it? ” 


In Indian Land 


35 


Fred caught an appealing glance from Gray, 
and though he hesitated to put himself forward, 
he was a loyal scout, and as he had taken a de- 
cided liking to the clean-cut New Yorker, he felt 
obliged to comply with the earnest request Gray 
had made when they met. 

‘ ‘ I think it ’s bully, Mr. Phipps, ’ ’ Fred gathered 
courage to say. ‘‘ Of course I’m new out here an’ 
all that, but I’ve been in the scouts pretty near 
three years now and it ’s done me a heap of good. 
More fun than a circus too.” 

‘‘ Sure, we’ll do it! ” cried Dunk. ‘‘We’ll lay 
for that Thunder Bird of yours, Carl, eh, Jerry? ” 

“ Bet your life! ” answered Jerry fervently. 

“ Here wait a minute,” cried Mr. Phipps. 

What’s this about the Thunder Bird, Carlito? 
What do you know ’bout this thing? ” 

“ Nothing, sir,” replied the young Apache with 
a smile. ‘ ‘ I just guessed that it was the Thunder 
Bird. Of course, I don’t believe that. We could 
certainly have some fun besides being of possible 
use to you.” 

“ Count me in too,” cried Fly. “Aviator’s 
badge for mine! ” 


36 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


“ Same here,’’ ‘‘ Me too.” That’s what I 
say,” came from all the hoys. 

Good,” shonted Jerry enthusiastically. 
“ Carl can run the trailin’ end of it an’ Dunk can 
boss the first-aid work an’ Windy ’ll be chief cook 
and bottle washer o’ the whole bunch! ” 

There’s the lunch gong,” laughed Mr. 
Phipps, springing to his feet. ‘ ‘ Come on to grub 
pile! I’ve got to get away pretty quick, but y'all 
can have the ranch to yourselves all day. Cornin’, 
Hop Sing, cornin’. Chase along, boys! ” 


CHAPTEE ni 

THE LEGEND OF THE THUNDEE BIKD 

Immediately after lanch Mr. Phipps hastened 
oif and the boys returned to the veranda to form 
their patrol. Herb Phipps was acclaimed chair- 
man and the meeting was on. 

‘‘ First thing’s nomination of officers,” an- 
nounced the chair. Shoot in some names, yuh 
guys! ” 

‘‘ The patrol leader’s got to be a first-class 
scout,” grinned Gray. Stand up. Windy! I 
move the nom ’nations be closed! ” 

Here, hold on! ” Fred sprang up at once. 
‘‘I’ll only be here a few weeks, kids. What’s the 
use? One of you had better — ” 

“ Aw, beat it.” “ Sit down! ” “ Cut it out! ” 
came from the others. Dunk gained the floor. 

‘ ‘ Second the nomination, Mr. Chairman ! Let ’s 
make Windy leader while he’s here, anyhow.” 

“ All in favor?” 

“ Aye.” And Fred was elected. Carlito was 
then put up against Gray for assistant, but the 

37 


38 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

New Yorker promptly withdrew and the young 
Apache got the honor. The boys were then sworn 
by Fred and Gray together, and the patrol was a 
fact. 

‘‘ What we goin’ to call her? ’’ asked Fly. 
Various titles were proposed and voted down but 
finally Carl came across with ‘‘ The Thunder Bird 
Patrol.’’ This was greeted with a yell of delight, 
and was chosen without delay. 

Oh, Windy! ” called Jerry from a swing at 
the other end of the veranda. “ Chase out to the 
kitchen and tell Hop Sing to give you the rattler 
lariat, will you ? This swing needs tying up. ’ ’ 

Fred promptly rose and vanished, suspecting 
nothing. At Fort Bayard the men had a standing 
joke on all tenderfeet. They sent them all over the 
fort asking for the rattler lariat ” — which is 
slang for whiskey — and as whiskey is a thing for- 
bidden at the fort, the unhappy tenderfoot usually 
ended up under arrest. The crowd on the porch 
expected that Hop Sing would catch the joke as 
he had done before, and send Fred out to the bunk- 
house or corral to some of the men who would send 
him on farther. 

‘ ‘ Thought mebbe it ’d be good for him, ’ ’ grinned 


In Indian Land 


39 


Jerry in expectation. Windy’s pretty solid, but 
he’s liable to get the notion that being from the 
East he knows ’bout everythin’ that’s — Wow! ” 

The speech ended in a startled yell. Jerry and 
Fly had been sitting in the vine-shaded swing at 
the end of the porch, and from the vines beside 
them came an unmistakable rattle. Jerry took one 
flying leap, lost his balance, and crashed into 
Dunk’s chair. Fly followed him so closely that he 
tripped and all three rolled headfirst into Carlito. 
At the same instant there was a rustle among the 
vines and Herb jumped to the wall, where a re- 
volver was hanging. 

‘‘ Don’t shoot! ” came the laughing voice of 
Fred. As he poked his head through the vines a 
shout went up and Fred came around the comer 
of the veranda. ‘‘ Pretty slick,” he laughed, as 
Jerry scrambled up. “ Hop Sing put me wise, 
though! ” 

Say, did you make that blamed rattle? ” in- 
quired Fly uneasily. 

Sure,” grinned Windy, holding up a string 
of rattles. “ Hop gave me these and showed me 
how to use ’em.” 

‘‘ Oh, what I’ll do to that Chink! ” groaned 


40 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Jerry as tHe crowd shouted with laughter. But 
just then Hop Sing appeared with a platter of 
doughnuts as propitiation, and peace was made. 

During the afternoon Fred and Gray measured 
the others for their uniforms. These would con- 
sist of the breeches, puttees and coat, the latter 
being only necessary for trips up into the moun- 
tains where it was chilly. A complete list of 
everything that was wanted was made out and 
given to Herb, who would hand it over to his 
father to be ordered at once. 

‘‘ Ever see a cliff dwelling. Windy? ” asked 
Dunk, after they had been measured. 

“ No,’^ answered Fred. ‘‘ Any ^round here? 

‘‘ Sure,’’ cried Fly eagerly. “ Feller over at 
Silver City has a tame one — built it himself! 
Collects two bits each from tourists to see it.” 

Shut up! ” laughed Dunk, and fired a pillow 
at Fly. There’s a mighty good bunch of ’em 
over north of the post. Windy. Five or six real 
old Mojaves there too. Make baskets and stuff to 
sell. S’pose we ride over there to-morrow, fel- 
lows.” 

This proved agreeable to all save Fly, who 
was to help his father with some work. So it was 


In Indian Land 


41 


arranged that Herb and Gray should come over 
early for the others and all would take a trip who 
could do so. 

‘‘ Tell your dad,^^ said Jerry to Herb, “ that 
wedl start work Monday. This is Tuesday. If 
our uniforms ainT here it won’t matter.” 

Monday night, then,” replied Herb. I 
can’t see what there is to do ’cept just sit around 
and keep an eye on the sheep all night. We’ll 
prob’ly scatter all over the range.” 

The party returned to the garrison in time for 
dinner. All were in high feather at having actu- 
ally formed a patrol. When the news spread 
around the fort that evening it met with general 
approval. 

‘‘ Good for Phipps! ” exclaimed Captain Craw- 
ford, at dinner. Guess we can spare you chaps 
some service revolvers if you want ’em. How 
about it, Gerald? ” 

‘‘ Fine! ” cried Jerry delightedly. Sure we 
want ’em.” 

We won’t really need them, I s’pose? ” asked 
Fred. 

You may,” returned the captain. Espec- 
ially if you’re going up against that sheep-de- 


42 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

stroyer of Phipps’. Looks to me like it was some 
cattle men from the ranges over beyond the Circle 
B. P. If it is yon ’ll have to pass it up. If it’s 
some animal or other, go to it! ” 

Herb and Gray arrived before the sunrise gun 
boomed next morning, and after a hasty breakfast 
the party rode to the northwest. They soon found 
themselves among the hills that bordered the river, 
and about ten o’clock Carlito halted them. 

“ See that cliff yonder? ” Jerry pointed to a 
steep ascent that rose above the low water across 
the river. Halfway up could be seen a crumbling 
ruin from which rose a trail of smoke. ‘ ‘ There ’s 
a cliff dwellin’. Windy. Looks like old Tommy’s 
home too.” 

Tommy’s the only Mojave there who can talk 
any English,” explained Dunk as they splashed 
through the river. We’ll leave the horses down 
here an’ hike up.” 

Leaving the ponies to graze along the river 
bank the boys began the ascent of a well-worn 
path. It had been hollowed out in places and made 
easier for visitors, so that they had no difficulty in 
reaching the cliff dwellings on the ledge. As they 
did so, Fred, who had followed Carlito closely. 


In Indian Land 


43 


saw two wrinkled and blanket-clad Indians with 
a couple of fat squaws, seated over a small fire. 
One of the chiefs was hideously tattooed on the 
forehead and chin, and the women were heavily 
ornamented with strings of many-colored beads 
and gaudy pendants. Two of them wore lal*ge 
brass earrings. All had a miscellaneous supply of 
brass buttons distributed over their blankets. 

Hello, Tommy! ’’called Jerry cheerfully as he 
gained the ledge. ‘ ‘ Better bring over some more 
stuff! We’ve got some new people at the post. 
Sell some baskets easy.” 

The eldest Mojave shook his head without look- 
ing up. No tadavia,” he returned. No got. 
Nex’ week, mebbe. All gone.” 

You fellows show Windy over the place,” said 
Carl. ‘‘I’m going to talk to Tommy. ’ ’ Squatting 
down beside the other Indians, he broke into a 
flood of Mexican. 

“ Come on. Windy,” laughed Dunk. “ Carl 
ain’t got no use for us now.” 

At first Fred was somewhat disappointed in 
the cliff dwellings, or what was left of them. Only 
part of the walls were standing in many cases, the 
roofs having caved in, the remainder of the build- 


44 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

ings being surrounded by fallen rocks and mortar. 

‘‘I suppose these are a good many hundred 
years old,’’ he said as he stepped into one of the 
better preserved caves which the Indians had 
taken possession of. There was a rounded hole in 
the center of the stone floor where the inhabitants 
had ground their com, and this was still in use by 
Tommy and his friends. All the arrow heads and 
broken pottery had been taken away by previous 
visitors, but the walls were inscribed with strange 
characters, the sign language of the vanished race. 
Queer animals of all sorts drawn in cmde fashion, 
mingled with figures of dogs, snakes and mys- 
terious marks of their own, were among the rough 
drawings. 

Very little light came in through the narrow 
door and single small window, and when Fred 
emerged and stood at the edge of the terrace the 
bright sunshine made him blink his eyes, and the 
fresh beauties of nature were a strange contrast 
to the dark, dusty interior of the cliff house. They 
were now far above the river, which could be 
heard below. Opposite was a low hill or two and 
beyond the hills the blistering yellow and red of 
the desert. They were facing the garrison, which 


In Indian Land 


45 


was hidden by the hills. Behind them lay the 
mountains, and to the west a far-off snowy peak 
was just visible around the comer of the ledge. 

She’s fifty miles away,” said Herb, as he 
pointed to the latter. ‘‘ Looks about ten, eh? 
Seems like yuh could toss a stone into them hills 
yonder. ’ ’ 

Fred had not yet become used to judging dis- 
tances in this country, where the atmosphere was 
wonderfully clear. It seemed almost incredible 
to him that the mountain was so far away. He 
would have liked more time to explore other of the 
cliff dwellings, for the strange sights held his in- 
terest, but the other boys, who had been over the 
ground many times, seemed to be growing im- 
patient, and they all returned to where Carl was 
still talking to Tommy. They stood behind the 
silently working Indians, whose faces were as ex- 
pressionless and inhospitable as their bent backs. 

“ Just see ’em weave,” exclaimed Fred, as the 
large but deft fingers wound in and out through 
many colors of straw. 

‘‘ And listen to Carl and that Indian jabber,” 
he continued. I didn’t know they could talk so 
fast.” 


46 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


‘‘ Oh, the Indians around here are partly civil- 
ized,” said Jerry, who had been watching with 
them. ‘‘ As long as they can get good trade for 
their baskets and beadwork, and do some swap- 
ping now and then, they seem satisfied.” 

Carl finally ended his conversation with Tommy, 
and springing to his feet, in true Indian fashion, 
he joined the other boys and sat down to eat the 
lunch which they had brought with them. After 
Fred had induced Tommy to part with a beaded 
buckskin knife sheath for a dollar, all returned 
down the winding path to the river. 

‘‘ Well, IVe got some red-hot news for you,” 
announced Carlito, as they left the river behind 
and headed back through the low hills toward the 
fort. 

“ Yuh must ’a’ got it from Tommy, then,” re- 
turned Herb. Yuh ain’t done nothin’ but jabber 
Greaser to him and old Alche-say. What’s on 
your mind? 

<< Wliy, Tommy’s the oldest buck anywhere 
around here,” replied Carlito. ‘‘ I thought maybe 
he’d give me some dope on the Thunder Bird. I 
don’t know anything but what I heard when I was 


In Indian Land 


47 


a little kid, but I got bim to loosen up. Want to 
hear it? 

‘‘ Sure,’’ cried Dunk, and drew back his pony 
beside Carl. ‘‘ Come on back here. Windy! Slow 
down, J erry. Now we ’re fixed. ’ ’ 

What I told you before,” began Carlito when 
all were riding in a bunch around him, ’ ’ was true 
enough. Deputies from the tribes met twice a 
year, spring and fall. This was all long before the 
white men ever showed up. Tommy says — and 
he ought to know if anyone does — that some- 
where up in the mountains north of here was the 
shrine of the Thunder Bird. It seems that there 
were three medicine men who kept an altar for 
oifering sacrifices to the Thunder Bird three times 
a year, and there were great festivities in which 
the people took part. One year there was a big 
scrap on between the Navajos and some of my 
own people. While the deputies were worship- 
ping at the altar that fall, somebody said some- 
thing, and the Apache delegates pulled out hidden 
knives and killed a Navajo. It was a rule that no 
weapons were allowed on the sacred place, and no 
sooner had the blood been shed than the Thunder 


48 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Bird came down in a big storm and killed the 
whole bnnch with his lightning arrows.’^ 

And that^s the kind of a monster we have to 
fight ! ’ ’ exclaimed Fred. 

‘‘ Oh, well, that’s the way Tommy told it. I 
suppose they really got struck by lightning. Any- 
how, everyone was killed, even the medicine men, 
except one brave who crawled away with the news 
and died. It was a sacred law that no one could 
visit the shrine in the daytime except during the 
sacrifices. Everybody was scared to go after the 
bodies until next spring. Then some medicine 
men tried it. They got about halfway when the 
Thunder Bird flew down in the dark and beat them 
off the path. After that it was said that the 
Thunder Bird was angry; so the sacred spot was 
left alone and gradually forgotten. Each tribe of 
Indians worshipped him at home, and the old cus- 
tom was passed up. Tommy says that nobody 
knows now even where the sacred spot is. When 
he was a boy an old man told him it was on a high- 
peak in the mountains, but hidden by some rocks 
and boulders so nobody could find it. It’s all a 
legend now.” 

‘‘ That’s funny,” exclaimed Jerry, as Carlito 


In Indian Land 


49 


paused. ‘ ‘ How did the Thunder Bird knock those 
chaps around that way? ” 

“Search me/^ responded the Apache. “He 
says the Thunder Bird was angry at having his 
shrine profaned with blood and wouldn’t let it be 
used again.” 

“ Sounds a whole lot like the Thunder Bird was 
after them sheep, Herb, ’ ’ laughed Dunk. ‘ ‘ Better 
get us medicine men’s outfits, Carl! We may 
need ’em! ” 

^ ‘ I think we ’ll need six-guns more, ’ ’ replied the 
Apache gravely. 

“ Gee, it’s goin’ to be a real adventure,” ex- 
claimed Fred, his bright eyes snapping. “ But 
how are we goin’ to start? ” 

“ Well, if the Thunder Bird lives up in the 
mountains, why not try and find out where he 
roosts? ” suggested Herb. 

“ Anyhow, while we’re waiting for our uni- 
forms, we might take Fred on a little hunting an’ 
fishing trip up in the mountains, and mebbe do 
some investigating on the side,” added Jerry. 

“ And talk over how we’re goin’ to get at the 
sheep stealer,” went on Fred. 

So it was decided that on Monday the boys 


50 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


would go for a hunt and map out their plans. But 
they did not know what was to happen in the 
meantime to help solve the problem for them. 


CHAPTER IV 

AN AVIATOE APPEARS 

'‘Hello, who’s that talkin’ to father?” ex- 
claimed J erry next morning as he and Fred came 
back from the range where they had been having 
a target contest to try out the service revolvers 
Captain Crawford had lent them. 

Captain Crawford called the boys over and in- 
troduced the stranger, a tall, trim-built young man, 
as Mr. Hawke. 

"I’m sure you boys will like Mr. Hawke,” he 
said. ' ' He ’s from the military aviation school at 
Fort Omaha, and knows how to build aeroplanes. ’ ’ 

This was enough to make the boys look upon 
Hawke as a friend and hero, even if he hadn’t 
smiled encouragingly and held out his hand. 

"I’m sure I’m going to like you too, boys, and 
I’m glad to know you’re interested in aviation. I 
always like to see boys up-to-date.” 

The boys hardly knew what to say to such a 
warm greeting as this, but Fly put in his appear- 
51 


52 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

ance at that moment and saved them from further 
confusion. 

Come on over here, called Jerry. 

He’s just crazy about airships,” he explained, 
turning to Mr. Hawke. 

Then I want to meet him,” said the aviator, 
his genial face lighting with a smile. 

‘‘I’d rather meet you then Santa Claus,” ex- 
claimed Fly, enthusiastically, feeling at home at 
once with the newcomer, and experiencing none of 
the embarrassment of the other boys. “ I hope 
you’re goin’ to stay.” 

“ Well, I’m planning to spend my vacation here. 
I didn’t expect to arrive so soon, but some friends 
were coming this way, so I dropped in unan- 
nounced.” 

“ We all like this kind of a surprise,’^ assured 
the captain, just as Dunk Eivers came up and said 
he was wanted on the telephone. 

“ I guess I can leave you with the boys, 
Hawke,” said the captain, after introducing Dunk. 

“ You bet. I like boys — especially aeroplane 
boys.” 

“ Maybe you can give them some pointers about 


In Indian Land 


53 


the mystery at the Phipps ranch,’’ Mr. Crawford 
called back as he hurried away. 

We’ll tell you about that,” volunteered Jerry, 
in answer to Mr. Hawke’s look of inquiry, and, 
assisted by Fly, Dunk and Fred, he told the story 
of the runaway and the loss of sheep at the ranch. 

And this trouble has been going on about a 
month? ” asked Mr. Hawke. Looks to me as if 
your Indian friend is pretty near right. It must 
he some kind of flesh-eating animal or bird that is 
doing the damage. So you boys are going to trail 
him dowm ? ’ ’ 

That’s the idea,” answered Dunk. 

We’ve formed a Boy Scout Patrol,” con- 
tinued Jerry; ordered our uniforms an’ every- 
thin’. Fred’s leader.” 

Splendid,” exclaimed Mr. Hawke heartily. 

I used to be scout master of a bunch of fellows 
down at Fort Omaha, but my work got so press- 
ing that I was obliged to give it up. I enjoyed it 
though.” 

Gee, that’s fine. Glad you’re goin’ to stay all 
summer, ’ ’ exclaimed Fred. 

How are you going to carry on this hunt? ” 
asked the aviator. 


54 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


‘‘We haven’t just decided yet,” replied Jerry. 
“ Got to figure that out.” 

“ If it’s a bird it seems to me you ought to have 
an aeroplane,” suggested Mr. Hawke, his eyes 
twinkling as he watched for the effect this would 
have on the boys. 

“ It would be just the thing,” cried Fly. 

“ Of course,” chimed in Dunk. “We could fly 
right after him then. ’ ’ 

“ That would be the way to do it,” said Mr. 
Hawke, pleased with their enthusiasm. “ Can’t 
you manage to build a machine here at the fort? ” 
he added. 

“ Mehhe Mr. Phipps would help us out,” cried 
My at once, taking the suggestion seriously. 

“ That’s right,” assented Jerry gravely. 

“ But we don’t know nothin’ at all about it,” 
said Dunk. 

‘ ‘ Well, you boys come up to my room to-night, ’ ’ 
responded Hawke. “ I’ll show you something 
you’ll be interested in. Come along and bring 
your friends. I suppose there are some other 
boys around here. ’ ’ 

“You bet; three more in our crowd. They’re 
all bugs on aviation too,” Dunk assured him. 


In Indian Land 


55 


‘‘ We want to get the Boy Scout aviation badge. 

“ Bully for you. That’s the kind of talk I like 
to hear.” Hawke gave Dunk a friendly slap on 
the shoulder. “ Now, I’m going to spend the 
afternoon with your father and Captain Crawford. 
Good-bye till to-night. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Ain’t he a peach? ” exclaimed Fly, when 
Hawke was out of hearing. 

‘‘ He’s a looloo! Gee, this is luck. Aviator — 
scout master — everything nearly,” agreed Jerry 
warmly. 

‘‘ Wonder what he’s going to show us to- 
night, ’ ’ queried Fred. 

“ Mebbe he’s got some more ideas about the 
Thunder Bird that he didn’t tell us,” suggested 
Dunk. 

He’s a prince anyway,” Jerry exclaimed. 
And in this all the boys agreed. 

Fly had to go back to his work, and it was de- 
cided to call up Herb Phipps and Tender Gray, 
telling them to cc^me over that evening on the 
aviator’s special invitation. Dunk said he would 
notify Carlito. 

At eight that night all the boys met at Jerry’s 
and went together to Mr. Hawke ’s quarters on the 


56 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


third floor of the old barracks. Graystock wore 
his tenderfoot badge, while Fred had pinned on all 
his medals, including the one for aviation. 

Carlito, Herb Phipps and his cousin edged into 
the room somewhat timidly, but the aviator’s cor- 
dial greeting caused them instantly to forget their 
embarrassment. 

‘‘I’m glad you managed to round up the 
bunch,” Hawke said, after the new trio had been 
presented. “This lesson won’t have to be re- 
peated. And,” he continued, observing Fred’s 
decorations, ‘ ‘ all of you scouts ought to be wear- 
ing aviation badges soon. That is, if you give 
careful attention to what I’m going to tell you.” 

“ We’ll listen, all right,” promised Fred. 
“ That’s what we’re here for. ” 

Hawke smiled. “ That reminds me. You fel- 
lows came pretty near missing the surprise I’ve 
got for you. When Ike went down to Silver City 
they told him my trunks hadn’t come. He waited, 
however, and they arrived on the next train. He 
delivered them only a few minutes ago.” 

The boys exchanged glances of inquiry. What 
had Ike and the trunks to do with it? 

But Hawke soon answered them by pulling a 


In Indian Land 


57 


large steamer trunk into the center of the room. 

“ Get down here/^ he said, throwing back the 
top. The boys gave a gasp of surprise and were 
down on their knees beside him. Lying in the 
trunk were the parts of a miniature aeroplane. 

“ Now, scouts,’’ said Mr. Hawke, amused at 
their excited exclamations, ‘‘ we’ll put this to- 
gether, and I’ll show you the model of the ‘Thun- 
der Bird Aeroplane.’ ” 

“ Gee whiz! ” exploded Fly, who was the first 
to find his tongue. “ What do you know about 
that, fellows'? That’s the name of our patrol.” 

But the other boys were too deeply interested 
in what Hawke was doing to pay attention to Fly. 

The aviator took the parts to the table and be- 
gan putting them together. 

“ We’ll make this a lesson,” he said. “ So fire 
in your questions.” 

“ Well, I’d like to know how much that 
weighs? ” complied Fly at once. 

“ About thirty pounds.” 

“ Is it all there? ” continued Fly. 

“ All but the engine.” 

‘ ‘ An’ how much does a real one weigh — I mean 
a big one? ” asked Bunk. 


58 


The Boy Scouts, of the Air 


Well, a full-sized macliine built after this de- 
sign would reach a weight of about 1,100 pounds 
or over, with the load. ^ ^ 

“ How fast would it go? ’’ asked Herb. 

“ About forty miles an hour,^’ replied Hawke. 
Whoopee! ’’cried Jerry. That’s sure goin’ 
some.” 

“ It doesn’t seem to go that fast when you’re 
up in the air,” explained Hawke. ‘‘ If you are 
gliding close to the ground the speed seems ter- 
rific, but after you reach the high altitudes you 
hardly notice that the machine is moving. ’ ’ 

‘‘ They looked as though they was moving 
when I saw them at Nassau Boulevard meet,” put 
in Tender Gray. “ There was a half dozen of 
them up in the air at once most of the time. ’ ’ 

All biplanes like this one? ” asked Fly, a 
little proud of his knowledge. 

Monoplanes too. Bleriots, Dumonts, Curtiss, 
Wrights, all kinds.” 

“ What you fellows talking about? ” asked 
Dunk, who knew little about the subject. 

Well, we mean, did they have two wings or 
one? ” answered Fly, in an offhand tone. 


In Indian Land 


59 


What^s wings? persisted Dunk, not to be 
put down. 

Why this is a biplane,” explained Fly, with 
assumed grandness, putting his thumb under his 
armpit, ‘‘ ’cause it’s got two wings, top and bot- 
tom — this and this.” He pointed to the main 
planes. A monoplane has only one wing, the 
top. And — 

‘ ‘ Stand back and give the professor room, ’ ’ in- 
terrupted Dunk, with mock solemnity. 

These wires look awful slim to me,” said 
Jerry, when the general laugh subsided. ‘‘You 
don’t go much on ’em, do you? ” 

“You bet, lots depends on them,” answered 
Mr. Hawke, who was stringing light wires 
through miniature pulleys on the upper and lower 
wings. “ They may look frail but in the full- 
sized machine they are the strongest piano wire.” 

“ What do they do? ” 

“ They really take most of the tension, and 
these struts take what is called the compression 
stresses. They’re made of the lightest tough 
wood in the world — comes from Canada.” 

“ Wish’t I understood all that,” said Tender in 
a rather discouraged tone. 


60 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


You can^t understand everything in one les- 
son/’ put in Fred. 

Yes, that’s right. We’ll have to start at the 
beginning and go through,” responded the avi- 
ator, with a good-natured smile. ‘‘But, of course, 
we haven’t time for that to-night. I’m just giv- 
ing you a general idea.” 

Carlito had said nothing up to this time, but he 
had been looking on very carefully, and listening 
with rapt attention. 

“ Looks like it would fly just like a bird,” he 
said, when the model was finally completed, and 
the boys were inspecting it. 

“ That’s just it,” cried Jerry, remembering the 
conversation of the morning, “ and we want one 
to chase the Thunder Bird with.” 

“ The question is, how are we going to get it? ” 
objected Fred, businesslike as usual. “We fel- 
lows ain’t got enough money.” 

“ Yuh ought to talk to father,” said Herb. 
“ He said he’d give anything to get that rascal 
that’s killin’ our sheep. Besides,” he added, 
laughing, “I’ve been digging for an aeroplane for 
along time.” 


In Indian Land 


61 


Do you tliinE he’d help us out? ” asked Fly 
eagerly. 

I think a talk with Mr. Hawke would do a 
powerful lot, ” responded the southerner. “ Cain’t 
you-all come over Sunday afternoon? Dad’s going 
to Santa Eita to-morrow morning to be gone till 
then.” 

‘ ‘ Yes, please go over and tell him what the aero- 
plane could do, ’ ’ urged Fly, anxious to realize the 
dream which seemed almost too good to be true. 

“ Sure, won’t you, Mr. Hawke,” chimed in 
Jerry. 

All of you fellows come, cain’t yuh? ” asked 
Herb. 

There was a rapid fire of affirmatives. 

How about yuh, Mr. Hawke? ” persisted the 
rancher. 

Why, of course. I’ll be glad to take a ride 
over with the boys and meet your father.” 

‘‘ All right, then, that’s settled, and now it’s 
time for us guys to go. Tender and I have to ride 
to the B. P. yet. Good night, Mr. Hawke. If it 
wasn’t so late we’d sure like to give yuh three 
cheers. ’ ’ 

Instead, I’ll shake hands with you all,” re- 


62 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


sponded the aviator, as they filed past him at the 
door. ‘‘ And remember, I’m yours for the medals 
and the Thunder Bird hunt. And — if we can 
get it — the finest aeroplane that’s been made 
yet.” 


CHAPTEE V 

AT THE B. P. BANCH 

Although the sun was hot when the boys and 
Mr. Hawke started for the ride to Phipps^ ranch 
the following Sunday afternoon, the air seemed 
cooled by an almost imperceptible breeze. It had 
rained the night before, and while the road was 
quite dry, there was less dust than usual. On one 
hand stretched the refreshed green pastures, 
spotted with many-hued wild flowers, making a 
gorgeous pattern of color. On the other hand 
were the towering mountains, their snow-capped 
peaks in marked contrast with the thick foliage 
of the forest which climbed halfway up their 
rugged slopes. Eising above the timber line were 
bare gorges of rock. Below lay the irregular foot- 
hills, thickly covered with cedars, pines and firs. 

But despite the compelling beauties of nature, 
which Hawke and Fred were enjoying in silent 
admiration, it was not long before the others, more 
accustomed to the sight which charmed the new- 
63 


64 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

comers, began talking of the thing which they had 
all probably dreamed of the night before. 

Say, Mr. Hawke,” queried Jerry, who had 
been turning the matter over in his mind, if 
Herb’s dad’ll stand for that aeroplane, how long’ll 
it take to get it! ” 

If Mr. Phipps should make such a decision as 
that,” replied Mr. Hawke, who really had some 
doubt that he would, ‘‘ we’ll have it done in two 
weeks. ’ ’ 

“ We’ll have it done? ” echoed Fred. What 
do you mean by that ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Why, I mean that I want you boys to help me 
build it, ’ ’ replied the aviator coolly, watching out 
of the comer of his twinkling eyes -for the effect 
his words would have on the boys. 

“ What’s that? ” cried the astonished Dunk, 
unconsciously digging his heels into his pony, 
which reared, and started off at a brisk canter. 

Mr. Hawke smiled broadly. He was growing 
more and more fond of the enthusiastic and manly 
Fort Bayard boys, and was especially amused at 
Dunk’s frank expressions. 

After going a few rods, the latter got control of 


In Indian Land 


65 


his horse and slowed the animal down for the rest 
of the party to catch np. 

Do you really mean that! asked Fly with 
flashing eyes, when they were all riding quietly 
again. 

<< Why not! We can get the material here in 
a week or less. Then we can probably find a ma- 
chine shop around here to work in, and, when we 
need it, build a hangar of our own.^^ 

Gee, that sounds bully/’ exclaimed Jerry. 

‘‘You can use our place,” volunteered Fly. 
“ We’ve got all kinds of tools, a bellows and most 
everything you’d need, I guess.” 

“ An aeroplane could almost be built in a car- 
penter shop, ’ ’ replied Mr. Hawke. ‘ ‘ There ’s very 
little metal on them. Mostly good strong spruce, 
bamboo and well-seasoned woods of different 
kinds.” 

“ What a chance that would be,” reflected Fly, 
more to himself than anybody in the party. 
“ But, what if it shouldn’t be a bird after all! ” 
he asked suddenly, his face growing grave and 
anxious. “ Then we wouldn’t need an aeroplane 
and everything would go to smash.” 

Instantly a cloud seemed to fall over the faces 


66 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

of all the boys, as they looked instinctively at Mr. 
Hawke. The latter found the sudden change in 
aifairs too much for his humorous vein, and with 
a hearty laugh he dispelled the gloom as quickly 
as it had gathered. 

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” 
he said, finally regaining composure. 

Give Fly a good punch. Dunk,” exclaimed 
J erry. ‘ ‘ You ’re next to him. ’ ’ 

There ain’t no use in you givin’ us all cold 
feet like that, Fly, ’ ’ admonished Dunk, by way of 
complying with Jerry’s request. 

‘‘ Oh, it just seems too good to be true,” de- 
fended Fly. I think I must be moving in a pipe 
dream. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Leave it to Mr. Hawke, ’ ’ assured Fred. 

By the way,” said the aviator genially; 
‘‘ Hawke is good enough for me. Cut out the 
Mister/^ 

‘^All right, Hawke,” returned Fly, with a 
strong accent on the name. 

The path turned to the left at that point, and 
took them through a rather scant growth of pine 
trees. The boys welcomed this meager shade, 
which was the first cool spot they had reached 


In Indian Land 


67 


since leaving the Fort. They stopped under the 
trees for a few minutes, and turned aside from the 
main road while a large freight wagon, loaded sev- 
eral feet above its top and covered with canvas, 
passed, drawn by six strong horses. It was fol- 
lowed by a smaller two-horse wagon. Both of the 
drivers were Greasers. 

What you got on there, yelled Dunk mis- 
chievously. 

The Mexicans replied with a curious glance, 
and one of them gave the usual, No sahe! 

After wiping their perspiring faces with their 
handkerchiefs, the boys and Hawke pulled out 
from under the trees and rode out into the sun 
again. It was not an unusually warm day for 
New Mexico, but warm enough to give them some 
discomfort. 

‘‘We might go out of our way a little and get 
a drink at the river over here, ’ ’ suggested Dunk. 

“ We ^11 have something better ’n that to drink 
when we get to Phipps’ I bet,” answered Jerry 
scornfully. ‘ ‘ He always treats us great whenever 
we go over there — and besides, we got company 
to-day.” 

“ I don’t want to say nothin’,” interjected Fly, 


68 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


who had been thinking on the subject since his 
last remark. ‘ ‘ But I do hope it is a bird. ^ ^ 

Say, you joy-killer, you calamity howler, cut 
that out, will you! Jerry pulled his pony over 
and gave Fly a jab in the ribs. ‘‘ If you don^t 
quit, this will turn into a funeral procession. I’m 
gettin’ cold feet already.” 

At that moment Carlito, who had been riding 
silently a little in advance of the others, spurred 
up his pony, and with a hasty ‘‘ I think I see 
something, ’ ’ dashed on ahead. 

After a moment of surprise and hesitation, the 
others galloped after him. Carlito did not go far, 
however, but before he stopped the others saw 
what he was after. When he pulled up, four or 
five chattering magpies flew complainingly from 
the ground, where they had been feeding on a 
dead lamb. 

Carl slipped off his pony and the others followed 
his example. The party gathered around the 
Indian, who was stooping over the animal and ex- 
amining it closely. It was frightfully tom under 
the belly and its back was broken. 

There’s been somethin’ doin’ in the sheep 


In Indian Land 


69 


stealin’ line again, said Jerry. What do you 
think about it, Carl? ’’ 

It^s so badly smashed up I can^t tell much, 
but it does look to me as if there were marks of 
claws — large claws, answered the Indian 
finally. ‘‘ But I can^t tell for sure.’^ 

This must be one of the B. P. herd,’’ con- 
jectured Dunk. 

Does it look like some bird had him? ” asked 
Fly, eager to settle the doubt which had arisen. 

‘‘ It looks like talons, all right. But I can’t say 
positive. He’s too riddled. I’ll look around.” 

Carl separated himself from the circle and 
patrolled the ground round about. 

If there was any tracks the rain last night 
washed them away, ’ ’ he said finally, satisfied that 
nothing could be learned by further search. 

‘‘ There could be no tracks of a bird, could 
there? ” asked Hawke. 

^ ^ If it ’s a big one, sometimes there ’s the sweep 
of the wings when they bear down on something. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Well, let’s ride on and see what Mr. Phipps 
has to say about it,” suggested Dunk, after they 
had thoroughly inspected the animal a second 
time. 


70 


The Boy Scouts, of the Air 


It was a hot, dusty and rather excited party 
that greeted Herb half an hour later at the B. P. 
corral. 

‘‘ Lost any sheep last night I ’’ asked Fly, as 
soon as the few words of greeting had been said. 

Half a dozen of ’em,” replied the rancher’s 
son. Dad’s mad as all get out. Says he’s 
goin’ to watch every night, and when that thing 
comes again he’s goin’ to blow it to kingdom 
come. ’ ’ 

Well, we saw one sheep down the road,” in- 
formed Dunk, ‘ ^ all cut to pieces. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ A nice little lamb too, ’ ’ said Fred regretfully. 

“ Shouldn’t be surprised. We found a couple, 
and they sure was done for. Now’s the time for 
us to hit dad hard for that aeroplane.” 

Glad to know yuh; come right up,” was Mr. 
Phipps’ cordial greeting as he came halfway down 
the veranda step to meet the aviator and welcome 
the boys. His cool, spotless linen suit was quite a 
contrast to the somewhat grimy appearance of the 
visitors. 

“We’re pretty warm after that ride,” apolo- 
gized Hawke, mopping his forehead with his 
handkerchief. 


In Indian Land 


71 


Mebbe ynb’d like to go inside and wash up/’ 
suggested Mr. Phipps amiably, and his invitation 
was heartily accepted by all the party. Herb, 
show them around, ’ ’ commanded the rancher, and 
his son readily complied. 

The ranch-house, which Mr. Phipps had built 
himself, was a duplicate of the old homestead in 
Texas. The roominess which the large, square ex- 
terior suggested was carried out in the great, 
wide rooms and high ceilings within. The spacious 
halls and stairways reminded one more of a mag- 
nificent southern home than of a New Mexico 
ranch-house. Oriental rugs in delicate shadings 
covered the highly polished floors, and the mas- 
sive mahogany furniture and tasteful hangings 
gave the whole an appearance of elegance and re- 
finement such as sheepmen are not reputed to 
have. 

This is one of my venerable ancestors,” said 
Herb, when the party filed downstairs, refreshed. 
“ Yuh see, father’s folks was French. This fel- 
low is General Dupont, and fought some good 
fights in the Franco-Prussian war. They say he 
never would have been killed, bom under a lucky 


72 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


star like Napoleon — only lie lingered too long 
with a wounded comrade at the siege of Paris. ’ ’ 

‘‘ And this lady? ’’ asked Hawke, pointing to a 
large portrait of a slim, dark beauty, dressed in 
white, and wearing a cluster of yellow roses at her 
waist line. 

‘ ‘ That ’s my mother. ’ ’ Herb lowered his voice 
a little as he answered. ‘ ‘ She died when I was a 
little tad, yuh know. ’ ’ 

‘‘ A very beautiful woman,’’ said Mr. Hawke, 
quickly passing on to spare Herb’s feelings. 
‘ ‘ And this man looks like your father. ’ ’ 

That was painted a long time ago,” said 
Herb. 

It looks like you now,” put in Jerry, who had 
been inspecting the same painting, while the other 
boys walked up and down the halls and made an 
interested examination of the many large oils 
which lined the walls. 

This is father’s sister, who used to keep house 
for us. She died a few years ago. Then we got 
Hop Sing.” 

There was, then, Hawke reflected, no woman in 
this immaculately-kept house, where there seemed 
to be so many evidences of the feminine touch. 


In Indian Land 


73 


The rough rancher, it seemed, had that strain of 
tenderness so often found in outwardly brusque 
men, which expressed itself in his home. 

‘‘ This is just the way the house down South 
looked when mother died,’’ said Herb, as if in 
answer to the visitor’s thoughts. Dad never 
wants anything changed. Even her room is the 
same, and no one ever sleeps in it. One night we 
had so many visitors we thought we ’d have to use 
it or be rude, but father slept in the herder’s cot- 
tage instead. You’ll always find a bunch of yel- 
low tea roses in her room — she was very fond of 
them, and father grows them himself in the green- 
house. ’ ’ 

Herb shook his head back with a sudden jerk, 
as though shaking off a painful twinge, and passed 
on to some relics which were hung in the next 
room. 

This is General Dupont’s sword, and a medal 
which Napoleon gave him for his services. ” 

After a few minutes they all returned to the 
veranda, where they found Mr. Phipps mixing 
some purple colored stuff in a huge punch bowl. 
The clink of the ice was an agreeable sound, for 
they were all thirsty. 


74 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


This is my own grape juice punch,’’ said Mr. 
Phipps, as he filled glasses for the Chinaman to 
pass around. My scheme is to have Sing make 
it, and set it out here. Then when the guests ap- 
pear I am stirring it industriously, as though it 
were my own job.” 

Sitting in the shade of the vine-covered ver- 
anda, and sipping the iced punch, it was not long 
before Mr. Hawke and the boys were thoroughly 
refreshed and rested. The aviator felt entirely at 
home with the hospitable rancher, and they 
chatted like old friends. Hawke noticed that be- 
sides holding vases of flowers, the tables were 
stacked with the latest magazines and popular 
books. He caught sight of a New York newspaper, 
and some from other parts of the country. There 
were hanging baskets suspended from the roof of 
the veranda, and the whole scene was restful and 
quiet, and even luxuriously comfortable. 


CHAPTER VI 

WINNING AN AEEOPLANE 

“ Well, I see that the boys have got you into 
this sheep stealing mystery,’’ began Mr. Phipps, 
when the glasses had been taken away. ‘‘ An- 
other bunch of my sheep killed or ruined last 
night. It beats the world what’s happening to 
’em.” 

Fly said they found one of them lying down 
the road,” said Herb. 

‘ ‘ I looked him all over, ’ ’ spoke up Carlito, ‘ ‘ and 
it looked to me like something with big claws had 
been at him, but he was in such shape that you 
couldn’t tell for sure. Then there were a lot of 
magpies feeding on him when I rode up and the 
claw marks might have been those of some bird 
that had alighted on him after he was dead. ’ ’ 
Well, this thing has got to be stopped some- 
way, somehow.” Mr. Phipps spoke with an em- 
phasis that meant business. Herb and I have 
been talking it over all morning. He says yuh 

75 


76 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


had an idea, Mr. Hawke, we might chase the thing, 
whatever it is, with an aeroplane. ’ ’ 

“ I suggested that to the boys on the assump- 
tion that it was a bird,’’ replied Mr. Hawke, no- 
ticing, with a twinkle in his eye, that the boys 
were moving their chairs closer and listening 
with tense interest. 

We’re sure it’s a bird,” chimed in the en- 
thusiastic Fly. ‘‘We were hit by it ourselves 
coming from Silver City — and that rancher was 
picked up by it. What else could it be? You 
never see tracks. ’ ’ 

“ It must be something that flies, anyway,” 
argued Dunk. ‘ ‘ Everything shows that. ’ ’ 

“ But how could you get around flying after it 
at night,” objected Mr. Phipps. “ It never seems 
to come around in daytime.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, Mr. Hawke can fi:s that, ’ ’ exclaimed Herb 
confidently. 

“ With an equipment of acetylene lamps,” as- 
sented Mr. Hawke. “ They would give all the 
light we would need. ’ ’ 

“ But you would probably have to shoot at 
him,” protested Mr. Phipps. “ I don’t see how 
that could be done.” 


In Indian Land 


77 


“ CarPs the best shot there ever was/^ assured 
Jerry. ‘^He can shoot anything. Even in the 
dark.’’ 

Mr. Phipps and the aviator smiled broadly at 
this. 

I should think if it were a bird,” said the 
latter, leaning back in his chair, ^ ‘ the thing would 
be to chase it to its haunt and trap it. ’ ’ 

‘‘ That’s not a bad idea,” agreed Mr. Phipps. 
‘ ‘ With an aeroplane you could follow it at its own 
speed.” 

‘ ‘ Of course, Mr. Phipps, an aeroplane would not 
be an inexpensive proposition, and I do not say it 
would positively do the work, but the boys are 
very much interested in aviation and I suggested 
that they might help me build a biplane here 
which we could use in clearing up this trouble. ’ ’ 

‘‘You mean, let us help in building it? ” Herb 
leaned forward in his chair while Tender Gray’s 
eyes grew large with excitement. 

“ That was my thought.” 

“ Dad, that’d be great,” exclaimed Herb, his 
dark cheeks flooding with deep-hued red. ‘ ‘ Let ’s 
do it! You said I could have an aeroplane some- 
time, anyway.” 


78 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

I didn’t expect to be taken so seriously,” 
laughed Mr. Phipps good-naturedly, though there 
was no finality in his tone. 

During this conversation the boys had been sup- 
pressing their anxiety with difficulty. Their 
eager, impulsive faces changed with every new 
argument put forth, according to its effect on 
their project. Only Carlito, the Indian, sat im- 
passive and solemn. But he was paying strict at- 
tention to all that was said. 

Hawke ain’t talking hard enough,” protested 
Fred in an undertone to Jerry. But Jerry gave 
him a kick and his lips formed the admonition 
keep still.” 

How much would the thing cost? ” asked Mr. 
Phipps. Dunk gave Fly a punch with his elbow 
and Fred hitched his chair closer. 

‘‘ About a fourth the cost of a factory-built 
machine,” answered Hawke. “You see, I can 
buy the material at first cost. With the help of 
the boys it can be built at the fort and I have an 
engine of my own which I can furnish. Alto- 
gether, eight hundred dollars would see us 
through.” 

“ Eight hundred dollars, eh? ” Mr. Phipps 


In Indian Land 


79 


seemed to be turning the matter over in his mind. 

“ But you’ve lost a thousand dollars’ worth of 
sheep already,” urged Herb, feeling that this was 
the time to press his strongest arguments. “ If it 
keeps on we won’t have any sheep left. Besides, 
you know that the ponies got frightened a little 
while ago and broke down part of the corral. 
What if they’d all get out and run away? 
They’re worth two thousand dollars themselves. 
And gee whiz, Dad, think of what I’d learn in 
helping to build an aeroplane. Just what I 
want.” 

Tender Gray gave Herb’s arm a squeeze while 
the other boys regarded him with grateful eyes. 

‘ ‘ How long would it take to get this material ? ’ ’ 
asked Mr. Phipps, seeming to disregard his son’s 
remarks. 

About a week. I can get most of the stuff 
from Kansas City. The northern spruce comes 
from Denver. I’d have to order the bamboo from 
a New York house. My engine is at Fort Omaha. ’ ’ 

“ I suppose you would teach the boys how to 
run the machine,” queried the rancher, who ap- 
peared to have reached his decision and merely 
wished further assurance. 


80 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


‘‘ Oh, certainly, that is part of the plan,’^ re- 
sponded the aviator. 

‘‘ Well then, go ahead and get things to- 
gether as soon as yon can. But I gue§s a govern- 
ment aviator knows his business.’’ Extending 
his cigar case to Mr. Hawke, the southerner pre- 
pared for a leisurely smoke, as if, having settled 
the question, he would worry no more about it. 
Mr. Hawke settled back into the depths of his 
large wicker chair and lighted his cigar. 

The boys, however, did not take the matter so 
calmly. They broke into excited yells of delight. 
Herb and Tender Gray did something like an In- 
dian war dance on the front steps. Fred was pum- 
melling Jerry with a will, and Dunk and Fly stood 
talking with bright eager faces, making gestures 
with their hands and arms. The Indian, though 
he smiled with satisfaction, sat quietly and looked 
on. 

“ Gee, Dad, you’re a brick,” exclaimed Herb, 
slapping his father affectionately on the back. 

I like the enthusiasm of these boys,” Hawke 
told Mr. Phipps, when Herb had joined his com- 
panions. ‘‘ In all my experience I never came 


In Indian Land 


81 


across a more promising bunch. There isn’t a 
dullard in the lot.” 

‘ ‘ To tell you the truth, ’ ’ answered the rancher, 
after a long drag at his Havana, and regarding 
with kindly eyes the group at the end of the 
veranda, ‘ ‘ the idea of showing them how to build 
the machine appeals to me about as much as the 
bird — or man — hunt, although that is an im- 
portant factor of course. And I hope you may be 
able to land the thief, whoever or whatever it is. ’ ’ 
“ Say, boys,” he added, in a louder tone, 
‘‘ you’d better all stay for dinner to-night, and 
we’ll have a little moonlight party on the veranda 
here — how about it, Mr. Hawke! ” 

‘ ‘ Sure — you ’ll stay, won ’t you, Hawke ! ’ ’ 
queried Jerry, while all the others nodded their 
ready assent to the rancher’s proposal. Hawke 
was easily induced to fall in with the scheme. 

And by the way,” continued Mr. Phipps, 
why don’t you take Hawke for a scouting ex- 
pedition up in the mountains to-morrow, while 
you’re waiting for your uniforms and the ma- 
terial! ” 

<< We’d just been talking about that,” as- 


82 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

sented Fly. We thought mebhe we’d find the 
place where the bird lives.” 

Mr. Phipps and the aviator smiled at this naive 
response. 

“ Carlito can take you,” said the southerner, 
and Herb wants to try out a new gun he has. 
Suit you, Mr. Hawke? ” 

‘‘I’m here on a vacation,” responded the 
aviator. “ And anything like that sounds good to 
me.” 

After a while the boys grew more calm, and the 
party on the veranda settled down to the quiet 
of the waning afternoon. Mr. Hawke and the 
southerner found topics of conversation in poli- 
tics, aeronautics and affairs of the day. The boys 
separated into groups of two, some reading or 
glancing over the illustrated magazines, others 
talking in low voices, flipping penknives or whit- 
tling. At last the sun sank in a bed of red, gold 
and purple behind the tallest mountain peak, 
lighting up its snowy whiteness with vivid crim- 
son and yellow, and deluging the sky with beau- 
tifully mingled colors, which gradually trailed off 
at each side into faint lavender. 

“ This is the country for sunsets,” said Mr. 


In Indian Land 


83 


Phipps, as they sat watching the beautiful scene. 
“No king ever wore a more glorious crown than 
nature places on that old mountain’s brow every 
evening, shining with colors as brilliant as the 
finest gems ever mined.” 

When the last soft light had dwindled, twi- 
light quietly settled over the scene, and the stars, 
like faint sparks of the sun’s final salute, gradu- 
ally came out clearer against the growing dark- 
ness. 

It seemed like an interruption when Hop Sing 
announced dinner, but his voice broke the spell, 
and the boys resumed their noisy chatter as they 
filed into the house. 

“ This is Thunder Bird roast lamb,” announced 
Mr. Phipps, as he whetted the carving knife. 
‘ ‘ The poor animal escaped the ravages of the de- 
stroyer only to be seized by the cruel headsman 
and quartered for my pleasure.” 

The party had seated itself, with some commo- 
tion, around the great round table. The spacious 
dining room was softly lighted with shaded lamps. 
The snowy table cloth, shining glasses and silver, 
and a huge bunch of white carnations made the 
tempting viands look even more appetizing. 


84 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


There was no formality about the service. Mr. 
Phipps knew the capacity of growing boys, and 
saw that they were helped to liberal quantities of 
everything. Hop Sing was kept busy hopping 
from one side of the table to the other. The young 
fellows were entirely at their ease, and did not 
hesitate to ask for whatever they wanted, and as 
much as they desired. 

Hop Sing is some fine cook,’/ said Ply, as the 
Chinaman good-naturedly passed him his third 
helping of mashed potatoes. 

The celestial grinned. “Melican show me,” he 
said, pointing to the rancher. 

“ Whoopee, what’ll Hop say when he sees our 
aeroplane! ” exclaimed Jerry, and all the boys 
joined in the laugh that followed. 

‘‘ He’ll want to go to a Chinese heaven in a 
chop suey bowl sure,” said Herb. He scrapes 
in front of his idol whenever he sees an automo- 
bile, which isn’t often in these parts.” 

The subject being thus introduced, considerable 
talk about the new aeroplane ensued, and when, 
happy and satisfied, they all returned to the ver- 
anda, they found Sing putting up the last Japan- 
ese lantern. 


In Indian Land 


85 


“ Give us some coon songs, Dad,’^ askedTEerb, 
and instantly there was a clamor from all direc- 
tions. 

‘‘No — I don’t do that any more,” objected 
Mr. Phipps, but his misgivings were overruled 
when Herb appeared with a banjo and guitar. 

“ Come on, let’s give ’em ‘ Drag the Chariot,’ ” 
coaxed his son, strumming on the guitar. 

The boys, with Hawke, had gathered around the 
rancher and Herb expectantly. 

“ What’s this yuh got me into, yuh young 
scalawag,” exclaimed Mr. Phipps, with mock 
anger, but he took the banjo and struck up a lively 
tune. 

One song was followed by another, until the 
whole bunch of boys, unable to sit still under the 
enchanting strains, had risen to their feet and 
were performing jigs of one style or another. It 
was soon noticed that Fred had some skill in this 
direction, and he was urged to jig “Turkey in 
the Straw,” and numerous other dances, until he 
sank down panting for breath. 

In the midst of their festivities there was a se- 
ries of sharp barks in the direction of the corral, 
and then a regular din of neighs from the horses. 


86 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

violent barking from the dogs, and an occasional 
bleat. 

Mr. Phipps threw his banjo aside and quickly 
ran down the steps in the direction of the corral. 
The others followed him. They found the horses 
greatly excited, running pell-mell around the en- 
closure, almost pushing each other over, and some 
of them trying to climb up on the fence. The dogs 
were baying, and running about in a confused 
fashion. Three sheep had apparently strayed 
from the herd and were standing by the side of the 
corral. 

It’s that confounded thing again,” exclaimed 
Mr. Phipps, calling to the horses to quiet them, 
while Herb went inside and endeavored to calm 
them. After a time the dogs, remembering their 
offices, got after the sheep and drove them back 
to the fold. 

‘‘ Doesn’t look as though there’s any damage 
done, but you’d better get Mike to go down and 
look over the sheep. ’ ’ 

As Herb went off on this errand, the others re- 
turned to the house. 

“ Bothering the horses too,” said Hawke, when 
they had seated themselves. That looks bad.” 


In Indian Land 


87 


Must have been chasin’ those three sheep,” 
Mr. Phipps conjectured. 

‘‘ I looked around, but couldn’t see a sign of 
anything,” said Carl. 

When Herb came back, he said he had gone 
down to the sheepfold but, as far as he could see, 
there was no further damage there. 

After a little further conversation, Carlito and 
Herb went after the ponies and led them up to the 
veranda. Somewhat subdued in spirit, and a little 
disturbed, the party started off through the moon- 
light for the Port, after bidding a cordial good 
night to the hospitable rancher, his son and Ten- 
der Gray. 

‘‘ Hurry along with that aeroplane, boys,” Mr. 
Phipps called after them, and the boys cheered 
and waved their sombreros in reply. 


CHAPTER VII 


m THE MOUNTAINS 

Early next morning Carlito was waiting for 
them at an appointed place with an Indian pack 
pony. By seven o’clock all the party had assem- 
bled, including Fly, who had succeeded in begging 
off from work. Each of the boys had a stock of 
provisions, a coat as a preparation for the cold of 
higher altitudes, fishing tackle, lines and rods, all 
of which Carlito strapped on the back and sides of 
the pony. Each of the boys and Hawke wore a 
cartridge belt and carried a stout stick to aid in 
climbing. Herb had a brand new service revolver. 
Fred, Jerry and Hawke carried guns, Carl car- 
ried a bow and arrow, while the others brought 
rifles. Fred had a camera and Jerry a field glass. 

After an hour’s tramp they reached the moun- 
tains. Lower down the slopes the ascent was easy. 
Patches had been worn by the feet of many trav- 
elers, here and there stepping stones had been 
roughly cut, no telling how many generations ago, 
and other rude steps had been formed by piling 
88 


In Indian Land 


89 


comparatively symmetrical stones upon each 
other. There were numbers of deserted clilf 
dwellings along the ledges, tucked in under over- 
hanging rocks, and, higher up, perched in perilous 
spots over deep ravines and rushing torrents. The 
largest part of the snow had melted by this time, 
and the mountain streams were swollen to their 
utmost. Farther down, their descent was not so 
remarkable, but before the day was over, the party 
stood awestruck on the side of many a rocky cliff 
and looked below at foaming, seething waters, 
dashing down the rocky ways. 

They had not gone far when they came across a 
group of Indians, of which Tommy was one, 
squatting on the ground, gambling. There were 
two squaws in the group, and they, like the men, 
were smoking. They were playing the stave game, 
Carl explained, and sat, with stolid faces, throw- 
ing their sticks in turn. Occasionally they would 
allow themselves a grunt of approval or displeas- 
ure, as their luck prompted. 

‘‘ How’s it going? ” Carlito asked Tommy, in 
Mexican. 

The Indian shook his head in reply, while one 
of the others grinned. 


90 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

After watching them awhile, Carlito, followed 
by the others, started on. 

This was practically Fred’s first mountain 
journey, and he was very much worked up over 
the event. The cliff dwellings interested him ex- 
ceedingly, and he wanted to explore them all, no 
matter how dangerous their approach. He had 
the eastern boy’s desire for relics and kodak pic- 
tures, and in a short while his pockets were half 
filled with stones and other things picked up along 
the way. 

“ Gee, I wish we could get into that one,” he 
said, pointing to a particularly lofty cliff dwelling, 
separated from them by a somewhat narrow, but 
deep ravine, and almost hidden by a great pro- 
jecting rock and overgrown poplars. But when he 
worked nearer to the edge, and saw the rushing 
water below, and the sharp, jagged rocks that 
lined the ravine, he was dissuaded from the idea 
and satisfied himself by taking a picture of it. 

‘‘ A little farther up there’s a dandy place to 
fish,” said Carl. The water runs easy for quite 
a ways, and there’s lots of trout waiting to be 
caught.” 

‘‘ Head for that,” commanded Fly, scrambling 


In Indian Land 


91 


over a cactus bush which he had not noticed. 

Ow, wow! he yelled, as some of the sharp 
thorns grazed his palm. 

Bring down one of those turkeys, said Jerry 
to Dunk, as a flock of wild turkeys flew over their 
heads. 

None of the boys claimed to be expert marks- 
men, but they soon found that Hawke deserved 
that distinction. He succeeded in bringing down 
one of the flock Jerry had referred to, though it 
was flying at a good height. It was nothing more 
than the boys naturally expected; in fact, they 
would have been disappointed if he had not 
proved himself excellent in everything. 

“ There’s just nothin’ he can’t do,” Dunk had 
said, and in this all the boys heartily agreed. 

‘‘ Don’t shoot too much’ before dinner,” warned 
Carl, as though he feared they might clean out all 
the game. “ We don’t want to do much of that 
till afternoon. Too heavy to carry. ” 

Oh, I guess we won’t have much of a load,” 
responded Fred, who had made three unsuccessful 
attempts. 

“ I guess I don’t know how to handle this new 


92 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

gun/’ was Herb’s excuse, when he failed to bag 
his game. 

Bj ten o’clock they had reached the point in 
the riyer which Carl advised was good fishing 
territory. 

“We’ll fish till noon,” announced Tender 
Gray, ‘ ‘ and then cook ’em. ’ ’ 

“ Yum, yum,” came from several of the boys, 
who knew what a camp-baked mountain trout was. 
“I’m hungry already,” said Fly. 

“ Where’s your line, Carl? ” asked Fred, when 
all but the Indian had sat down and cast their 
bait. 

‘ ‘ I never use one. ’ ’ The Indian was standing 
with his bow and arrow, looking intently into the 
water. 

“ Just watch him,” whispered Jerry. 

After that there was little talking. Perhaps 
there was a little unspoken competition among the 
boys for the first catch. Now and then a trout 
came up for air, but for a while they seemed to be 
running the gauntlet of lines successfully. 

Bunk’s line caught on some floating weed, 
which he pulled out with a “ shucks ” of disap- 
pointment. 


In Indian La/nd 


93 


Finally there was a whirr and a splash, and 
CarPs arrow flashed into the water. When he 
dragged it to shore with his bow there was a fine 
big tront attached to it, speared through the 
head. 

Fred and Hawke watched him with interest, but 
none of the others paid much attention. They 
had frequently seen him catch fish in this way. 

“ Hullo, there. Windy, what’s dragging your 
line? ” yelled Dunk. 

Fred had been so busy watching Carl that he 
hadn’t noticed his shaking line. 

‘‘ More weed,” said Dunk good-humoredly. 
But Fred fooled him by landing a fine trout. 

Contrary to the expectations of most of the 
boys, Hawke did not make any particular mark as 
a fisherman. He caught but one fish, and that 
smaller than the others. 

Guess my luck is going against me,” he said, 
and the boys were very ready to believe it ill for- 
tune instead of lack of ability. 

They had been fishing about an hour and a half, 
when a loud call from Carl attracted their atten- 
tion. The Indian had been scouring the ground 


94 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

for evidence of game, and had probably found 
something. 

“ Come here, fellows,” he shouted, you’ve 
got enough fish for dinner.” 

They all came running over, and examined a 
freshly dug hole he had found. 

‘‘ Now, Boy Scouts, what’s that? ” asked 
Hawke, his eyes twinkling. 

Tender Gray studied it seriously for a few min- 
utes, and then announced: 

Looks like a shepherd dog might have done 
it.” 

‘ ‘ I don’t know much about wild animal prints, ’ ’ 
said Fred, ‘ ‘ but I suppose it was a bear. ’ ’ 

That’s a grizzly’s trick,” said Carl. “ He’s 
been digging a root for his breakfast. ’ ’ 

A grizzly,” gasped Tender Gray. 

Do you think you could get him? ” exclaimed 

Fly. 

If I can find his hole,” said Carl. 

But how do you know he is there ?” asked 
Herb. 

We’ll follow these prints.” 

The boys and Hawke walked along beside Carl 


In Indian Land 


95 


as he pointed out the footprints of the grizzly. 
Then he stopped. 

“ See this little trail where the dirt has been 
dragged along! asked Carl. Well, that shows 
he was dragging something in his mouth, and he’s 
probably gone home to eat it. The marks are 
fresh, so it wasn’t long ago.” 

‘‘ Wouldn’t it be a prize to have a grizzly! ” 
exclaimed Fred. 

You fellows had better wait here for a few 
minutes, till I see if I can find his hole, ” in- 
structed the Indian. If I can find that, we’re 
sure of getting him or of him getting us. ’ ’ 

Suppose he gets after you, Carl. Better fire 
a signal, ’ ’ said Fly anxiously. 

He can’t fire with his bow and arrow, bone- 
head,” gibed Herb. 

I’ll just shout,” said Carl. But I can get 
around him all right. 

‘‘ I hope Carl don’t kill him before we get a 
chance,” said Fred, when the Indian was out of 
sight. 

He won’t unless he has to,” said Jerry. 

He’s a mighty square fellow.” 

Wouldn’t mother have a fit if I should bring 


96 The Boy Scouts, of the Air 

back a bear. And the scouts in Cleveland! 
Fredas bright eyes shone with the prospect. In 
imagination he had already laid the grizzly low. 

Carl finally came back with the news that he had 
found the cave. 

‘‘ Now you just follow me — and don’t make 
any noise. I’m going to walk way around and 
come up behind the cave — you follow. Keep 
still.” 

The Indian started off like a stealthy panther, 
scarcely moving a leaf or twig. He leapt with the 
agility of a cat over rocks that lay in his path, and 
was obliged to pause now and then for the rest of 
the party to catch up, as they had considerable 
more difficulty. The low branches were inclined 
to swish as they passed, and it was not an easy 
matter to avoid crackling dry leaves and twigs 
underfoot. They fell and scrambled over rocks, 
and unlucky Fly got into another bunch of 
cactus. 

Finally they came to an open space, and Carl 
pointed to a formation of rock. 

In front of that is a hole,” he whispered. 

That’s where the grizzly is. Crawl up on top 


In Indian Land 


97 


of the rock, over the hole, and get your guns ready. 
Aim just as soon as you get a chance at him. ^ ’ 

The boys, though they were stout-hearted fel- 
lows, followed nervously. Hawke had trailed and 
shot grizzlies before, and, though his sporting 
blood was aroused, he was willing to stand aside 
and let the boys try for the game. All of the other 
boys, except Fred and Tender, had previously 
been close to live grizzlies, but only Carl had ac- 
tually trailed one. 

The rock was large enough for all to climb 
upon, squat down and hold their guns. Not one 
of the boys was at all afraid, yet the excitement 
made their hearts beat fast, and in their eagerness 
to succeed, they held their guns with rather un- 
steady hands. 

Carl leaned over the edge of the rock, and de- 
liberately yelled into the mouth of the cave. 
There was a low growl as he sprang back, but, 
after waiting several minutes, no grizzly appeared. 

The Indian boy then took a coat which he had 
brought along, and dropped it down in front of the 
grizzly’s hole. 

There was another growl, stronger than the 
first. And then another. It is difficult to de-. 


98 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


scribe the feelings of the boys as they sat there, 
almost on top of a real grizzly, and a live one at 
that. Yet they dared not speak, and could only 
sit still, everyone at high tension, until something, 
they scarcely dared think what, happened. They 
felt a measure of safety, however, with Carl and 
Hawke along. 

Finally the grizzly came out and sat down on 
the coat, looking around. Then he raised him- 
self on his haunches, and smelt the air. Just as 
he caught sight of the boys, Carl whispered as 
loudly as he could — 

‘‘ Now! ” 

Two guns boomed — Herb’s and Fred’s. The 
big animal rolled over with a furious growl, and 
lay kicking for a second. Then he regained his 
feet, and, his teeth and red gums showing, was 
about to make a spring at the party on the rocks. 
Jerry could not suppress a shriek, and Fly was too 
excited to do anything but cling to Dunk. Hawke, 
however, was quick enough for the animal. He let 
him have it just before Carl’s arrow wedged itself 
in the animal’s forehead. 

This time the grizzly rolled over for good, and 
gave very few parting kicks. 


In Indian Land 


99 


Carl sprang down from his point of vantage, 
and gave the bear a violent push with his foot, al- 
most rolling him over on his back. 

The blood was flowing freely from the wounds, 
while the grizzly ^s open mouth filled with froth 
and blood, and his glazed eyes told plainly that 
he had dug his last root. 

Is he sure dead? asked Fly, who with Jerry 
and Dunk, had remained on the rock for safety. 

* ^ Did you ever see a live grizzly act like that ? ’ ^ 
returned Herb, poking the animal in the side to 
show that he, at least, was not afraid. 

At this show of bravery all the boys came 
nearer. 

Well, let’s carry him to camp,” ordered Carl, 
and, under his direction, the boys found two stout 
sticks which they run through the bear’s feet, one 
through the fore and one through the hind feet 
where Carl had made slits. When they got him 
back to their camp they strapped him on the pony 
and prepared for dinner. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE STOKM 

Gee, I could eat bear meat raw,” exclaimed 
Fly. ‘ ‘ Fur and all. ’ ^ 

Well, get busy, put on this grub,” ordered 
Jerry. 

Hawke made himself one of the boys, put on the 
wooden plates, helped clean the fish, and broiled 
two of them. 

The Indian had made a good fire of twigs which 
he had gathered, and had buried some of the fish 
underneath in the sand, to bake, throwing pota- 
toes into the fire to roast. 

“ Look, fellows, mother put in a homemade 
cake,” announced Jerry, setting a tempting 
chocolate-covered cake on the papers which 
served as a table cloth. 

‘‘ Doughnuts and pickles,” announced Fly, fill- 
ing some wooden plates. 

‘‘ Wow, chili sauce — hot — for baked fish.” 

‘ ‘ Con cami for anybody that wants it — I 
don’t,” put in Herb. 


100 


In Indian Land 


101 


Bread,’’ Sandwiches,” Olives,” and so on 
each boy announced gayly as his contribution to 
the feast, and, when they finally sat down in a 
circle, they proved their keen appetites by the way 
things disappeared. 

There was not much conversation during the 
meal. They were all too hungry to talk. 

“ What’s the use of hunting any more, fel- 
lows? ” said Dunk, at last, when there was some 
show of abatement on the part of the diners. 

We can’t do much better ’n a grizzly.” 

What if we should get a deer,” encouraged 
Tender Gray. ‘ ‘ I saw some prints around here. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Suppose you know as much about deer prints 
as bear prints,” teased Herb, remembering Ten- 
der’s mistake. 

‘‘ I guess those were our pony’s prints,” said 
Fly, helping Herb along. 

There was a general laugh, which Tender took 
in good part. ‘‘ Well, I ain’t been a scout very 
long,” he apologized. 

<< We’re hunting for a thunder bird, too, you 
must remember, ’ ’ reminded Dunk. ‘ ‘ Wish ’t some 
of you could read tracks in the air. ’ ’ 

Let’s look around and see which way we’re 


102 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


goin^ this afternoon,” suggested Jerry, producing 
his spyglass. 

There’s pretty thick timber in that direc- 
tion,” said Carl, as Jerry pointed east. 

All the boys had a turn at the glass. That’s 
a funny looking rock up there,” said Fred, look- 
ing westward. ‘‘ Looks like a cliff dwelling.” 

You’ve got cliff dwellin’s on the brain,” re- 
marked Fly. That’s nothin’ but a rock.” 

‘‘You look and see. If that ain’t windows in 
there I’m a fish.” Fred handed Fly the spyglass. 

“ Well, it does look kind of queer,” admitted 
Fly. ‘ ‘ You look,^ Hawke. ’ ’ 

“ Looks to me like a tower,” announced the 
aviator, when he had studied the spot for some 
time. 

“ Like a square tower with windows! ” 
prompted Fred, glad to have his suspicions con- 
firmed. 

“ I guess that’s one of these lookout towers,” 
said Carl, when he inspected it. “ Pretty high 
up, though.” 

“ Let’s go up that way,” suggested Herb. 
“ Might as well as any other. Looks easier to 
climb, too.” 


In Indian Land 


103 


‘‘I’d like to get a picture of it to take home 
too,” said Fred, whereupon Jerry grabbed his 
hat, and gave him a tussle for it. 

“ Don’t you want one of the windows for a 
souvenir,” joked the Southerner. “ Gee, I wish 
I’d gone into the souvenir business before you 
came. I’d gotten rich off of you. ” 

It was finally decided, however, to follow the 
direction Fred had chosen, principally because it 
seemed to be less thickly timbered. 

It was a problem what to do with the pony. He 
would stand without tethering, but he might be 
bothered by wild animals. 

Carl, however, soon solved the problem by 
clearing the ground for several feet around him, 
and then, gathering twigs and sticks, piled them 
around the pony in a wide circle. He then set fire 
to them, and, after they had a good start, smoth- 
ered the flames carefully so they emitted a thin 
line of smoke. 

“ I think that’ll keep most animals away,” he 
said, as they started for the climb. 

“ It wouldn’t take us long to get up there if 
we had our aeroplane,” said Fly. “ Would it, 
Hawke? ” 


104 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

It won^t be many moons before we have it 
now,” responded the aviator. “I’ve ordered all 
the supplies, and I telegraphed to New York this 
morning so they’d make an extra special rush on 
that bamboo. ’ ’ 

“ How many will it carry? ” asked Jerry. 
“ Can we all go? ” 

“I’m figuring on using a special patent of my 
own,” said Hawke. “ I have a certain device 
which I have worked out which will so equalize 
the balance that I believe I can carry six in safety. 
Ordinarily, three is about the limit.” 

“ Gee, I’m glad of that,” put in Herb. “I’d like 
to have all the fellows on.” 

“ You’ll all have plenty of it, turn about,” said 
Hawke. “ Besides, I’m not saying anything, but 
I believe, when I get to work on the thing, I can 
fix it so we can take more. But I don’t want to 
hold out any false hopes. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Do you think we can build it in two weeks ? ’ ’ 
asked Jerry. “ That seems pretty good for ama- 
teurs. ’ ’ 

“ Not for such energetic young fellows as you,” 
responded Hawke, smiling. “And there’s enough 
of us, if we all work hard.” 


In Indian Land 


105 


work hard, all right — we all will,^’ ex- 
claimed Tender Gray. 

“ You bet,’’ chimed in Dunk. 

They had come to a rather difficult climbing 
place, and had to depend a good deal on their 
sticks as boosters. By catching hold of shrubs 
and pushing one another, they finally gained the 
top of a rather high point, with almost perpen- 
dicular ascent. 

They found themselves almost on the edge of 
a cataract, which they had heard roaring for some 
time. The foaming water was rushing down in 
great cascades, sending up white spray as fine as 
steam. 

“ Let’s see that thing now,” said Fred, borrow- 
ing Jerry’s glass. 

‘‘ If that’s a rock I’ll eat it,” he added. 

Hawke also made another examination, and 
said as before that it looked like a cliff dwelling 
or tower. 

‘‘It’s quite a ways up there yet,” he said. 
“ We’d better get a move on us.” 

They entered a heavy growth of timber shortly, 
and Carl was obliged to come and take the lead. 


106 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

It was beginning to get cold, and all the boys had 
put on their coats. 

‘‘It’s most three, ain’t it? ” asked Jerry, who 
had not brought his watch. 

Hawke took out his timepiece and said, Just 
three.” Then he added: Do you think we can 
make this to-day? ” 

“ We can tell better when we get out of these 
woods,” answered Carl. ‘‘ I think you’ll be quite 
near it then.” 

In a short while they reached the outskirts of 
the timber growth, and, as Carl had predicted, 
found themselves very near the spot they had 
aimed for. They could see it plainly now, a sort 
of square dwelling or tower, the base of it thickly 
covered with various green shrubs and vines. 
But they were hopelessly separated from it by a 
deep and wide ravine, down which rushed a great 
torrent of roaring water. 

‘‘ Guess we can’t get at that,” said Herb after 
they had stood for some time silent on the bank of 
this cataract. ‘‘Let’s go back — unless Fred 
wants to take a picture. ” 

“It’s gettin’ kind of dark for that,” said Fred. 
At this remark the others suddenly noticed that 


In Indian Land 


107 


the sun had disappeared behind a cloud and the 
sky looked black. 

‘‘ Say,’^ exclaimed Fly, that looks like a 
pretty ugly cloud over there. ’ ’ 

" ‘ What if there should be a bully storm ^ ex- 
claimed Jerry, eager for the excitement. 

Gee, I was in a mountain storm once,’’ re- 
counted Herb, “ and it was great. There was a 
couple of tenderfeet with us, and they was scared 
to death. Yuh scared. Windy? ” 

Naw,” replied Fred scornfully. Anyhow, 
looks as though the sun has just gone behind a 
cloud and will soon be out again.” 

Kind o’ cold,” complained Fly, buttoning his 
coat. ‘‘ Say, I wonder — ” he stopped, for there 
was an ominous rumble among the darkening 
clouds which were hurriedly crowding together 
like a dark-clad army maneuvering for a sudden 
attack. 

That’s old man Thor,” said Dunk, who was 
something of a poet at times, and had read more 
extensively than the average boy of his age. 
‘‘He’s gettin’ ready to hit us between the eyes. 
Ain’t you awful afraid. Tender! ” 

Just then a blinding streak of fire cut its zigzag 


108 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


way through the black sky, lighting up every peak 
and crevice, followed by a sharp crack that broad- 
ened into a deafening roar and made the boys 
jump with surprise. 

** We’re in for it, all right,” said Herb laughing. 

My, this is going to be terrible. Windy ” he 
added with mock solemnity. 

They stood not far from the cavernous ravine, 
where, almost beneath them, they could hear the 
water tearing over the rocks. Soon a swift, strong 
wind rushed out of the forest behind them, the 
trees bending and swaying helplessly before the 
mighty torrent of air. 

There goes my hat,” cried Jerry, as his som- 
brero was swept from his head. 

“ No use going after that,” laughed Hawke, for 
the hat was speedily blown over the precipice and 
whirled down into the ravine. The other boys 
quickly pulled their headgear down more se- 
curely. 

That old tower looks like a picture,” ex- 
claimed Dunk, as a bolt of lightning lit up the 
ancient structure and painted its somber walls 
with a vivid light more brilliant than sunshine. 


In Indian Land 


109 


Wliy don’t you take a picture of it, Windy? ” 
asked Tender. 

Fine idea,” exclaimed the Clevelander, ad- 
justing his camera. I never had a chance to 
take a flashlight like this.” 

Almost as he spoke there was a report like that 
of a huge gun, and an accompanying line of fire. 

‘‘ Did you see that, fellows? ” exclaimed Fred, 
when the noise had died down. 

‘‘ What? ” came in a chorus from the boys. 

‘‘ Didn’t you see it? ” Fred repeated. 

What yuh talkin’ about? ” asked Herb, a 
little impatiently. 

“ Was you looking? ” 

‘‘ Come across. Windy,” exclaimed Fly. 

What are you driving at anyhow? ” 

Before the Clevelander had time to reply to this 
question, they were startled by a most peculiar 
shriek which pierced the air, and seemed to cut 
to the very marrow of their bones. 

It came only once, but left the party hushed 
and silent. 

Must be an eagle,” said Carl finally, 
‘‘ though it’s the fiercest I ever heard.” 

‘‘ What was it you saw, Fred,” asked Hawke. 


110 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Well, when that light came, and I snapped 
the picture, I thought I saw something big and 
black floating around over; there by that old 
tower.’’ 

“ I didn’t see nothing and I was lookin’! ” 
deprecated Tender, doubtfully. 

Did you see it, Hawke? ” persisted the 
young photographer. 

‘‘I blinked my eyes when the lightning 
flashed,” replied the aviator. 

Well, I tell you I saw something.” Fred 
spoke with conviction. ‘‘ And it looked like a 
bird.” 

‘ ‘ Maybe it was — the one that yelled, ’ ’ said 
Dunk. 

The Thunder Bird, maybe,” shouted Carl. 

* ^ Gee ! ’ ’ said several of the boys at once. 

‘‘I’ll bet we’re near his shrine,” continued 
Fred excitedly, “ and he’s raising this storm.” 

“ Aw, come off, you’re dreamin’,” discouraged 
Tender, though half convinced. 

“ I didn’t see nothin’ either,” added Jerry, 
unwilling to admit that he was a little scared at 
the supernatural aspect things were taking. 

“ Maybe the picture will show,” said Hawke. 


In Indian Land 


111 


Bang — a cannon seemed to be burling great 
balls against an iron wall with a shock that re- 
verberated in all directions. The tumult became 
so continuous as to make conversation impos- 
sible, and the frequent flashes of light gave the 
timber the appearance of being on fire. The 
boys stood silent, rather enjoying the spectacle, 
though they were shivering with cold. 

After a while the clouds spent their gathered 
energy and the rain fell in great torrents. Very 
soon the boys were drenched to the skin, but 
there seemed no escape. To go into the timber 
was dangerous, and blocking them in front was 
the yawning chasm. 

‘‘If we could only get at that old cliff dwel- 
lin^’’ suggested Fly, “ we might find cover.’’ 

“ We’ll have to wait until we get our airship, 
to do that,” laughed Hawke. 

“ There’s a big rock down here,” said Carl, 
returning from a short excursion which he had 
made along the side of the cascade, looking for 
shelter. “ I think we can crowd under it till 
this is over.” 

The others hastily followed him, and were soon 
shielded from the rain under a huge, projecting 


112 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

boulder situated almost perilously on a smaller 
rock. 

There they waited for some time, and about 
five o^clock the storm abated as quickly as it had 
arisen. 

‘‘ Wonder where our pony is by this time! 
speculated Fred. 

No telling,’’ answered the Indian boy. “I’m 
afraid he’s gotten scared and run away.” 

“ With the grizzly! ” Tender’s tone was re- 
gretful. 

They started back in the gray light of the 
obscured sun. Hawke hurried them, having an 
older person’s concern for their welfare, and fear- 
ing they might suffer some bad results from wet 
clothing and cold. 


CHAPTEE IX 


A STRANGE MEETING 

“ There ainT no chance of our pony’s bein’ 
there,” remarked Tender, thinking more of the 
grizzly than anything else. “ They’ll think we’re 
tellin’ a fish story about that bear. ” 

If it was my own pony,” said Carlito, I 
wouldn’t be afraid to bet my best quiver that he’d 
still be there. This one I don’t know.” 

Their homeward journey was somewhat dif- 
ferent from the climb upward. The ground was 
soggy and wet with soaked leaves and mud, while 
water constantly dripped upon them as they 
passed under the trees. The sun, now setting just 
above the peak, gave a wan light through a half- 
mist, half -fog, which had arisen. They were still 
in rather high altitude, and the air was moist and 
cold. Creeping things, frightened into their holes 
by the storm, now ventured forth and skimmed 
across the ground frequently, disappearing again 
under the scraggy underbrush. 

“ Soon be time for the bats and owls, ’ ’ observed 

113 


114 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Dunk, as a surprised lizard hurried across their 
path. 

Though they were all damp and chilled and 
anxious to regain their original camp, the boys 
kept up a cheerful conversation all the way. 

Funny you fellows didn’t see that bird,” said 
Fred. 

There wasn’t no bird,” twitted Jerry. You 
just blinked your eyes when that flash came, and 
dreamt the rest.” 

On the square though, fellows,” seriously 
commented Herb, Fred may be right, and that 
old tower may be the very place we’re lookin’ 
for.” 

It’s worth while thinking about,” said 
Hawke. We’ll fly up there anyway, as soon as 
we get the aeroplane going. ’ ’ 

Seems to me that’s too good to be true,” re- 
flected Fly. I never thought, when I was 
readin’ all that stuff about machines, that I was 
goin ’ to see a real one, and help build it myself. ’ ’ 

His tone was so droll that some of the others 
laughed. “ Give Fly a handkerchief,” groaned 
Tender. He wants to blubber, he does.” 

‘‘ Don’t feel so bad about it, old boy,” 


com- 


In Indian Land 


115 


forted Jerry. ‘‘ Maybe tbe train with the stuff on 
it’ll be wrecked, or Hawke ’ll change his mind, 
or we’ll find out that it’s been Greasers doin’ the 
dirty work. ’ ’ 

Guess I’m kind of a howler,” admitted Fly. 
* ‘ But watch me work when we get at that plane. ’ ’ 

Just then Carlito picked up a long, thin snake, 
which had wiggled across the ground in front of 
him, and, swinging it around and around by its 
tail, sent it whizzing through space. 

Nothing but a garter snake,” he explained, 
laughing, as Gray unconsciously ducked his head, 
and Fred gasped with astonishment. ‘‘ I usually 
twist their heads off.” 

“ Wonder you don’t get your foot in it some 
time, Carl,” declared Fred. Ain’t you afraid 
of nothin’? ” 

No bad luck can happen to me,” said Carl 
confidently, though with a smile. See this? ” 
He pulled out from under his wet shirt a string to 
which was fastened a large blue and white 
streaked stone bead. 

‘‘ What’s that? ” asked several of the boys. 

A charm. Taken from the grave of one of 
my ancestors. There were just two in our tribe, 


116 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

and an old squaw gave it to me before I came to 
the Fort. Some one else in the family has the 
other one. She said it was the family charm and 
nothing could happen to me as long as I wore it;^^ 
Hawke smiled at this characteristic explana- 
tion, but the boys took it very seriously. 

“ Eemember anything about your father, 
Carl? asked the aviator, interested in the story 
nevertheless. 

They told me he was the bravest man in his 
tribe, and the swiftest runner. They wanted to 
make him chief, but his older brother, who was 
not so well liked, wanted to be made chief also 
and grew jealous of my father. One day a party 
of them went out on a hunt, and my father was 
separated from the bunch. They found him later 
in the forest, lying face downward with an arrow 
straight through him. Everybody thought my 
uncle did it. He went away soon after. ’ ’ 

What about the old squaw? ’’ inquired Gray. 
‘‘ Oh, she died just before I came here. She was 
over a hundred. I have her old pipe. She gave 
me a lot of things that were my father’s — a fine 
quiver and his bow. I remember what she said 
when she gave it to me. ‘ Your father was a 


In Indian Land 


117 


brave man and a great hunter/ she said. ‘ See 
that you do not disgrace him. ’ I have the arrow 
that killed him, and the blanket which my mother 
wove. They^re in my room at the fort.’^ 

By this time the mist had lifted and the sun 
had gone down. They were walking in a narrow 
passage which almost amounted to a gorge. Huge 
jagged rocks jutted out here and there on either 
side, many of them squeezing between them some 
deserted cliif dwelling. Bugged brown shrubs 
clung stubbornly to the sides or grew sparsely on 
the surface wherever they could find soil. The 
whole scene was softened by the warm colors of 
the departing sunlight. 

‘ ‘ Good-bye pony ! ’ ’ exclaimed Fred, when they 
reached the spot where they had left the animal. 

‘ ‘ Nowhere in sight, ’ ^ added Fly. 

Call him, Carl,” urged Herb. 

The Indian gave a series of calls, but there was 
no response. The wind and rain had entirely an- 
nihilated any trace of the fire they had made for 
the pony’s protection. 

‘‘ Maybe he doesn’t answer to a call,” said Carl. 

Or maybe I didn’t have the right one. Just for 
fun I’ll try an old one.” 


118 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

More in jest than in earnest he emitted a 
peculiar wierd sound, based on several tones of 
the scale. 

No answering whinny came. ‘‘ I didn’t think 
he ’d know that anyway, ’ ’ said the boy. ‘ * I never 
heard it but once. An old chief taught it to me 
and said it used to be my father ’s call. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Let’s scour around a little,” suggested Gray. 

“ All right. You stay here, and I’ll see what 
I can find,” replied Carl turning to the left. But 
he stopped short. In front of him stood a tall, 
stately, blanketed Indian. His whole face was 
hideously painted in various colors running in 
stripes backward from the nose, across his fore- 
head and chin. His anus were folded, and his 
countenance was set and expressionless. A 
flashing pair of beadlike eyes, almost snaky, were 
fastened on Carl. 

Whilligers, where ’d he come from! ” whis- 
pered Fred, as the boys stood perplexed and 
amazed at this apparition. Nobody had heard 
him approach, or seen him, until they discovered 
him standing like a carved statue, coolly regard- 
ing Carl. 


In Indian Land 


123 


That’s a beaut,” he exclaimed. Who 
bagged him ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ Hawke,” came the instant response. 

“We all did,” corrected the aviator. “ And 
we had a great time doin’ it.” 

“ Gee, we’ve had a corker of a day,” exclaimed 
Jerry. “ Lots of things happened.” 

“ Get inside here now,” ordered the captain, 
and the ladies quickly approved this advice. 
“ Take off your wet duds. Jerry, give the boys 
some clean things. ’ ’ 

“ Guess we’ll go home,” said Fly, speaking for 
Carl and Dunk. “Say,” he added, anxious to 
break the news, “ we think we’ve found the 
Thunder Bird nest. ’ ’ 

“ You better get under cover before you catch 
the rheumatics,” laughed the captain. 

It was nearly dusk now, and the white moon 
had appeared in the east, floating gently over rest- 
less, shifting clouds, but the evening was as serene 
and clear as if it had succeeded a calm, uneventful 
day. 

After putting on an outfit of dry clothes, Herb 
and Tender started for the ranch, where they 
found Mr. Phipps waiting for them, and Hop on 


124 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

hand to take care of their wants. After some 
warm broth they sat up late into the night relating 
the day^s events to the interested rancher. 

As for Carl, he sat up for an hour studying as 
was his custom, then lay awake for some time 
staring thoughtfully into the darkness of his little 
room, which was a small one over Fly’s machine 
shops. 

“ Wonder who that Indian was,” he pondered. 

A real Apache, and he knew that old call. 
Lookin’ for the Thunder Bird. What if he had 
known my folks? ” But soon his thoughts trailed 
off into dreamland, and he slept as only active 
boys can, until another day of promise dawned. 
For every sunrise in the life of a boy foretells a 
day of events. 


CHAPTER X 


THE PATEOL BECOMES A FACT 

When Ike returned from his customary daily 
trip to Silver City the following Wednesday 
morning, he brought with him two large boxes 
addressed to Herb Phipps, and a letter for Fred 
bearing the return address of a large Boy Scout 
furnishings firm. 

“ 1^11 bet it’s the uniforms,” exclaimed Jerry, 
referring to the boxes. ‘ ‘ See what the letter says. 
Windy.” 

Guess it’s answerin’ the letter I wrote ’em 
about the patrol,” remarked Fred, tearing open 
the envelope. 

‘‘Yep,” he announced, “ it’s from the scout 
commissioner at Albuquerque. Listen to this : 

“ ‘ Dear Sir: ’ ” (Fred swelled his chest, and 
looked very dignified.) “‘lam glad to know that 
you have formed a scout patrol at Fort Bayard 
and I certainly wish you every success. I am 
sending under separate cover a Boy Scout Hand- 
book for each member of your patrol, badges bear- 
125 


126 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

ing the insignia of an Eagle, the nearest thing that 
we can get to the name of your patrol. Learn the 
call of the eagle, if you do not know that of the 
thunder bird, as it is the signal of your patrol. 
You will also receive a flag with a picture of 
your patrol animal stamped on each side. 

‘ I happen to be acquainted with Mr. Hawke, 
who is sojourning in Fort Bayard. He would 
make a capital scout master and I am asking him 
by this mail to accept that appointment. I am 
sure he will be of great assistance to you in train- 
ing the members of your band, and in helping 
them to earn merit badges and medals, for I know 
you are all ambitious to gain as many as you can. 

‘ Yours very truly, 

‘ Geoege Stanton, 

“ ‘ Scout Comm^r/ 

‘‘ Whoopee, what do you think of that? yelled 
Fred, throwing up his hat. ‘ ‘ With Hawke to help 
us we’ll make a cracker jack out of this patrol and 
run them out of merit badges and medals. Maybe 
I can get the eagle medal.” 

‘‘ What’s that? ” 

‘‘It’s the medal they award to the scout gettin’ 


In Indian Land 


127 


twenty-one merit badges. You know I only have 
four now,” answered Fred. 

‘‘ Let’s call up Herb before Ike starts over to 
his place, and tell him the things have come. ’ ’ 

“ All right,” assented Fred eagerly, as he fol- 
lowed Jerry into the house and to the telephone. 

“ Hello, Herb,” called Jerry, when he had ob- 
tained the connection. ‘ ‘ Things doing over here 
at the Fort.” 

“ That so? What now? ” 

‘ ‘ Think the uniforms are here — at least there 
are two big boxes — one from Kansas City and 
another from New York.” 

‘‘ Gee whiz,” shouted the southerner. ‘‘ That’s 
what they are, all right. Dad got a letter yester- 
day sayin’ they’d be here soon. Say, yuh just 
hold ’em till Tender and I get over there ; we ’re 
just gettin’ ready to ride over to the fort.” 

All right. Hurry up. Got somethin’ else to 
tell you,” said Jerry, remembering Hawke’s ap- 
pointment. 

What is it? ” asked Herb eagerly. 

‘‘ Just wait till you get over here,” teased 
Jerry. 

All right, stingy.” 


128 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


And say, Herb, father’s got some business on 
hand this morning with a fellow from San Jose. 
Guess we can’t have the mix-up here; makes too 
much noise. Let’s have Ike take the boxes to 
Carl’s room.” 

“ That’s fine. And don’t open ’em till we get 
there. Tender an’ I will be over in a jiffy.” 

Fine work! ” declared Carl heartily, when 
Jerry and Fred called on him and informed him 
that the uniforms had arrived. Sure, bring 
them all over here. ’ ’ 

“I’ll go and get Dunk and Fly,” volunteered 
Jerry; “ Fred can look around at your things,” 
for he noticed that his companion had already 
begun an inspection of Carl’s small library. 

The Indian had built a workmanlike row of 
shelves around his room, and these were crowded 
with books of all sorts, some of which he had 
bought out of his scant earnings, and some of 
which had been given him. Everybody at the 
Fort knew that Carl was what they termed a 
“ bookworm ” and at Christmas he was well re- 
membered with the article he craved. There was 
very little fiction, but Fred found ten grammars, 
six arithmetics, four histories — two of the United 


In Indian Land 


129 


States — spellers, algebras, two biographies of 
Lincoln and Franklin, and the life stories of 
nearly all the great men of America. There were 
even text books on chemistry, astronomy and 
architecture, for, in his thirst for knowledge the 
young Indian found all subjects attractive. The 
Clevelander was also surprised to find a Bible, 
which his interest prompted him to open and ex- 
amine. There were marginal notes in a youthful 
hand, presumably CarPs writing, and passages 
underscored. 

The Indian boy then, thought Fred, was as 
straight and true as his stature, and the high de- 
gree of honor which the boys and all at the Fort 
ascribed to him was well deserved. 

There was a cot and several chairs in the room, 
all of which had been made by Carl himself. A 
worn blanket was stretched across the spotless 
floor. In one comer stood an old bow over six 
feet long, the one Carl had spoken of as belonging 
to his father. 

There was but one picture, and it puzzled Fred 
somewhat. It was a large engraving of an im- 
posing stmcture, much like a university building. 


130 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


There was no inscription, and the style of en- 
graving stamped it as old. 

What’s this? ” he asked Carl, who was string- 
ing his bow and seeming to take no notice of 
Fred’s examination. 

‘‘ One of the soldiers here gave it to me and 
said it was the college he graduated from. I like 
to look at it.” Then in answer to Fred’s look of 
inquiry, the Indian added: ‘‘ It helps me to save 
my pennies when I want to spend them for a 
traveling show at Silver City.” 

“ Helps you save your pennies? ” puzzled 
Fred, not comprehending the Indian’s meaning. 

‘‘ Yes. I’m trying to earn enough to go to a 
real school when I’m twenty. Never too late, you 
know. I’ve been through the grammar grades.” 

“You have! ” exclaimed Fred. “ I thought the 
boys told me you hadn’t been to school.” 

“ Correspondence school,” explained Carlito. 
“ Here’s my certificate.” 

He had arisen and taken a long envelope from 
the top drawer of the chest. 

The certificate testified that Carlito had satis- 
factorily passed all examinations, and was a full- 
fledged graduate of the correspondence school. 


In Indian Land 


131 


How did you do it? ’’ exclaimed Fred, his 
frank eyes shining with admiration. Just then 
Jerry, Fly and Dunk came into the room. 

‘ ‘ Do what ? ’ ’ inquired Jerry. 

“ I was looking at Carlito^s certificate,’’ replied 
Fred, assuming that the other boys had seen it. 

“ Oh, I studied nights a little, and whenever I 
got a chance,” answered Carl, modestly. 

A little! ” echoed Fly. He just studied his 
old head ofiP.” 

Why didn’t you go to college when Phipps 
wanted you to, Carl? ” asked Dunk. “ He was 
willin’ to pay your way.” 

‘‘ I was afraid I could never pay him back,” 
said CarL ‘‘ An Indian has no business owing 
anything to a white man, anyway.” 

“ Here’s Herb and Tender,” shouted Fly, who 
had gone to the window. 

The southerner and his cousin were soon in 
the room, hot and perspiring from their rapid 
ride over. 

“ Good momin’, gentlemen,” greeted the 
rancher’s son cheerfully, throwing aside his hat, 
and pouring out a glass of water from a pitcher 
which stood on the table. “ Have a drink, any- 


132 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

body! No! Then I’ll drink it myself,” and he 
drained the glass. Carl quickly brought another 
one for Tender Gray. • 

Make room for Ike,” ordered Herb, as the 
darky came laboring up the stairs, a huge box on 
his back. The boys met him at the landing, and 
helped him to deposit his heavy load on the floor. 

‘ ^ Here ’s some more, ’ ’ announced Ike. ‘ ‘ Greaser 
just brought one over for Mr. Fred Windham.” 

What’s that,” exclaimed the latter in sur- 
prise. Oh, I guess it’s that stuff Mr. Stanton 
spoke about in the letter, ’ ’ he recollected. 

Yuh fellahs must be gwine to start a store fob 
sure,” exclaimed Ike, as he dropped the second 
box with a thud. 

Look out — that one was full of ripe water- 
melon,” responded Gray. 

‘‘ Oh, golly,” groaned the negro, An’ I ’most 
drapt it.” 

Be very careful of the next one,” warned 
Jerry, with mock seriousness. ^ ‘ It ’s loaded with 
spring chickens.” 

Oh, das easy — I’ll jes’ open de box and let 
’em fly up,” answered the darky, dodging the hat 
which Gray pitched after him. 


In Indian Land 


133 


‘‘ Eeny, meeny, miny, mo — which one shall 
we open first? ’’ queried Herb, when the three 
boxes had been set down in the room. 

Let me do it,^’ volunteered Ike, with some 
curiosity, but a hasty chorus of protest stopped 
him. 

‘‘We want to do it ourselves,’’ explained Fly, 
“ It’s more fun.” 

“ You’er gwine to litter up this here room 
scan’lous ” was the negro’s comment, as he de- 
parted regretfully. 

“ I’ll clean that up,” hastily assured Carl. 

“ The big one first,” urged Dunk. 

“ All hands on deck,” ordered Herb. 

“ Say, Windy,” interrupted Jerry, halting the 
proceedings. “ Show the kids your letter.” 

“ I clean forgot that,” ejaculated the eastener, 
pulling a soiled envelope out of his pocket. 

“ I been readin’ it,” he explained guiltily, re- 
ferring to its murky condition. 

Work on the boxes was suspended for a few 
minutes, while Fred read the letter aloud. 

“ Things sure are cornin’ our way,” said Herb, 
when the general shout of approval had died 
down. “Where’s Hawke this morning? ” 


134 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

“ I saw him right after breakfast, and he said 
he was coming over. He got the letter about being 
scout master, and — ' ’ 

‘ There he is now, ’ ’ broke in Carlito, hearing a 
firm step on the stairs. 

“ Howdy, fellows,” hailed the aviator, as he 
came into the already crowded room. 

Good morning, Scout Master,” greeted Dunk, 
bowing low, while the other boys followed suit. 

‘‘ I see I have another job on my hands now,” 
said Hawke, good-naturedly, But then I don’t 
think you’ll be hard to train.” 

“We’re sure glad you’re going to be one of the 
bunch,” answered Herb cordially. 

^ ‘ These are our scout outfits, ’ ’ explained Fred, 
noticing that Hawke was regarding the packing 
boxes with wrinkled brows. 

“ Just going to open them,” added Fly, anxious 
to get at the work. 

“ Let me help,” exclaimed Hawke, peeling off 
his light coat, and rolling up his shirt sleeves be- 
fore any protest could be made. 

For the next few minutes they busied them- 
selves with the lid of the largest box. 

“ Uniforms,” they shouted, when Herb had 


In Indian Land 


135 


opened one of the smaller pasteboard boxes of 
which there were a number contained in the larger 
enclosure. 

This is yours, Fly,’^ he added, noting tho 
name and measurements which were pinned on 
the trousers. 

As the packages were properly labeled, each 
boy was soon in possession of his own suit. 

After a quick but admiring inspection of the 
outfits, the second box was eagerly tom open. It 
contained a hospital corps pouch for each boy, 
penknives, haversacks, mess kits, signal flags, 
whistles, sanitary drinking cups, canteens. Red 
Cross first aid outfits, camp supplies, and last, but 
not least, seven brand new shining Remingtons. 

Each new article was met with shouts of delight 
and surprise. 

I don’t remember ordering these,” gasped 
Fred, when at last they had reached the bottom 
of the box. 

‘‘ Oh, dad thought yuh might as well have a 
good supply, ’ ’ explained Herb, ‘ ‘ so he wrote to a 
friend of ours in New York and got these to sur- 
prise yuh.” 

“ Ain’t your father never going to quit doing 


136 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

things for ns kidsf ’’ asked Dunk, stroking the 
slender, glittering barrel of his new gun. 

‘‘ I wish we could do somethin’ real fine for 
him,” chipped in Jerry. 

Dad don’t want thanks. He just likes to be 
doin’ somethin’ for somebody all the time,” Herb 
assured them. He always was that way.” 

Well, we’re certainly going to get after that 
sheep stealer,” declared Carl. 

You bet,” echoed Fly, with a will. 


CHAPTER XI 


A SUBPEISE FOE ME. PHIPPS 

The third box, addressed to Fred, proved to be 
from Mr. Stanton, containing the handbooks, 
badges and patrol flag. 

After distributing the badges, and admiring the 
flag, each of the boys made a hasty examination 
of his book. 

‘‘ How we goin’ to learn about first aid to the 
injured? ’’ inquired Gray. 

Oh, dadfll teach you that,’^ responded Dunk 
readily. He said he would.’’ 

‘‘ And Hawke’s going to teach us aviation, and 
Carl can show us trailing,” began Jerry. 

‘‘ And my dad’ll show you craftsmanship and 
machinery, and we all know swimming,” cut in 
Fly. 

‘‘ Whoopee, fellows,” shouted Fred, we’ve 
got nearly all the badges now! ” 

‘‘ Who knows all the states in the union? ” 
asked Hawke with a smile, reading from the Scout 
Handbook. 


137 


138 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


It was found that only Carl and Fred could 
stand this test. 

‘‘ Who can tie a bowline knot? demanded 
Dunk. 

Say, this ain^t no schoolroom,’^ objected 
Jerry. “I see we’ve got to work some for those 
badges,” he added thoughtfully, but it’s fun 
just the same. ’ ’ 

‘‘ Tell you what we’ll do,” burst out Herb sud- 
denly, throwing down his book, his dark eyes 
snapping. 

The boys were ready in an instant for anything 
he might suggest. 

“ Let’s get on all these duds,” proposed the 
rancher, ’ ’ have a regular scout tramp over to the 
ranch and surprise dad with a dressed-up parade. ’ ’ 

“ Bully for you,” shouted Fred. 

“ Can’t we borrow a drum somewhere? ” sug- 
gested Dunk. 

“ Dad’s got one I can get,” offered Jerry. 

‘‘ Jerry’s some druihmer too,” said Fly. 

“ All right, get a move on you,” ordered the 
southerner. ‘‘It’s just ten now, and if we start 
right soon we’ll get there about time for dinner.” 

About a half hour afterwards, Captain Craw- 


In Indian Land 


139 


ford was drawn to his window overlooking the 
parade grounds, by the martial sound of drum 
beats. 

Well, I never, he exclaimed to his wife, who 
hurried to join him. 

Filing past the house two by two, in regular 
order and military step was the new Boy Scout 
Patrol, uniformed and carrying bright new rifles. 
Fred, bearing the flag, was slightly in advance, 
while just behind him was the tall form of their 
son, dexterously flipping the drumsticks and 
rolling out rhythmic march time. 

Not once did any of the paraders turn in the 
direction of the house, although they felt they 
were being observed. 

Captain Crawford leaned out of the window. 

“ Hurrah for the 7th infantry,’^ he shouted. 
“ I mean the seven infants,’’ he amended laugh- 
ing. 

The boys maintained their composure with dif- 
ficulty at this sally, but following Fred’s leader- 
ship, wheeled and marched up, abreast, to the 
front steps, where they stood marking time. 

At your service, Captain,” announced Fred, 
saluting. 


140 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

‘ ^ Present arms, shoulder arms, port arms, order 
arms! commanded Jerry ^s father. 

The bewildered company started to comply, but 
the orders came too fast for them, and soon their 
efforts were checked by a meny shout from the 
' captain. 

‘‘ Back to training camp,’^ he ordered. With 
a general laugh the boys broke ranks. 

We^re goin’ on a scout tramp over to Phipps’ 
ranch,” announced Jerry. 

This is a good day,” assented the captain. 

Been kind of cloudy all morning, so you won’t 
find it very warm walking.” 

“ How do you like us,” asked Fly, looking 
down at his khaki trousers, while the others 
looked up expectantly. 

You look like regular soldiers,” commented 
Mrs. Windham, who had joined the captain and 
his wife at the window. 

‘‘ Your suits are very pretty,” put in Mrs. 
Crawford. 

‘ ‘ Ha — Ha ! — your mother says the suits are 
pretty,” reiterated the captain. Guess that’s 
handing it to you.” 


In Indian Land 


141 


Oh, as for us,’^ retorted Fred. We’re just 
plain handsome.” 

Tell Phipps he’s spoiling the whole bunch of 
you,” enjoined the captain, as the party started 
down the road that led to the ranch. 

They had been unable to bring all their new 
equipment, but the canteens were strapped on and 
each boy carried his Remington. The whistles, 
drinking cups and penknives were safely stowed 
away in trouser pockets. On their shirts were 
pinned the new Boy Scout badges. 

‘‘ Sorry Hawke couldn’t go” said Dunk. The 
aviator had some business letters on hand, and 
chose to remain at the Fort. 

“ Ever develop that picture you took in the 
mountains? ” asked Fly of Fred. 

Yes, but it was no good. Something the mat- 
ter with the plate. Hawke’s got the proof,” re- 
sponded Fred. “ Order, now,” he added, with 
pretended severity. “Remember, left, right, left, 
right, ready,” and the boys started off in correct 
step. 

About midway in their tramp they met a group 
of Indians, of which Tommy was one, returning 


142 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

from a search for customers for their baskets and 
bead work. 

Pike along slow, fellows,^’ said Carl. I^m 
going to see if Tommy knows anything about our 
friend of yesterday. 

He engaged the old Indian in conversation, 
while the other boys parleyed with the squaws 
over their wares. After some good-natured teas- 
ing, Fred bought a particularly attractive woven 
basket for his mother, and Gray purchased a bead 
belt, which he intended to take to his sister when 
he went back to New York. 

‘‘ Tommy doesn’t seem to know very much 
about him,” informed Carl when he joined his 
companions. ^‘Says he showed up here about a 
week ago, and wanted to know if anyone could 
tell him where he could find the old Thunder Bird 
shrine.” 

Did Tommy ever see him before? ” asked 
Dunk. 

No. None of these Indians around here ever 
did. He says he has been down in the Mexico 
mining districts, but claims to be an Araviapa 
Apache. That’s what my father was, and he looks 
to be of the same tribe.” 


In Indian Land 


143 


‘‘ Looks somethin^ like you/’ remarked Fly. 

“ I think so too,” chimed in Fred. 

Well, Tommy says the old scout has an idea 
he has done something to offend the Great Spirit, ’ ’ 
continued Carl, ‘ ‘ and, unless he makes some kind 
of reparation, he won’t get into the happy hunt- 
ing ground with his ancestors. ’ ’ 

Carl smiled at this fallacy which he had long 
since abandoned. 

‘‘ Did he say what he had done?” inquired 
Herb. 

‘ ‘ No, merely said that a medicine man told him 
he was on the wrong side of the deity and that 
he’d better make up. Seems that he thinks if he 
puts the Thunder Bird back on its shrine again 
everything will be all right. I think he’s got the 
talk of some missionaries and his own ideas mixed. 
It isn’t like an Indian to be making up for bad 
deeds.” 

^ ‘ Get in line there, you scouts, ’ ’ ordered Fred, 
for his patrol had disorganized during Carl’s con- 
versation. 

Remember you have to stick to the rules,” 
added the leader, trying to be severe. 

The boys fell back at once, and started on two 


144 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

and two, keeping step and order the rest of the 
way. 

Though shorter than any of the other boys, 
young Windham had the personality of a com- 
mander, and, as he marched on ahead, his head 
erect, and square shoulders set, he gave promise 
of being an influential leader later on in life. 

It was about two hours afterward that they 
reached the outskirts of the Bread Pudding ranch, 
tired but by no means fagged. 

They stopped for a few minutes^ rest and ad- 
justment. After a long drink from their canteens, 
which they had filed with ice water before leaving 
the Fort, they laved their faces and hands. Then 
refreshed but somewhat excited, they started for 
the ranch-house. 

It was agreed that Jerry should not begin 
drumming until they had come very near, plan- 
ning to take a path on the other side of the house 
which brought them very close without disclosing 
them until they were within full view of the 
veranda. 

As they came up, the drum rolling, they saw 
Hop Sing, who was gathering vegetables for din- 


In Indian Land 


145 


ner, stop, look, and then make for the kitchen as 
fast as his thin legs would take him. 

“ Look at those chop suey drumsticks, ^ ^ 
laughed Fly, as the Chink vanished through the 
doorway. 

Never recognized us,’’ laughed Jerry, giving 
his sticks an extra twirl, and, consequently, pro- 
ducing more noise. 

They saw Mr. Phipps before he sighted them. 
He had arisen from his seat on the veranda, where 
he had been enjoying his newspaper before dinner 
should be announced, and was looking down the 
road for the source of the commotion. As the 
boys turned sharply at the east wing of the big 
house, they were brought into full view. They 
walked steadily on, as straight as comfort would 
allow them, keeping step like a squad of trained 
soldiers, and looking neither to the left nor the 
right, although several of them could not help 
smiling. Mr. Phipps gave them one puzzled 
glance, then threw up his hands, and bending 
back his head, laughed long and loud. 

You young rascals,” he roared. ‘‘Here I 
thought the state militia was out after my hide.” 

Fred led his small company around in a circle 


146 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


in front of the house, then made several zigzag 
figures which he had learned for a drill while in 
Cleveland. Finally they drew up, abreast, before 
Mr. Phipps, and, solemnly saluting, gave three 
hearty cheers. 

‘‘ Fine, fine! ’’ exclaimed the rancher. My, 
but you all look brave and ferocious. You might 
be able to meet a real enemy — with his back 
toward you. LeFs see how they fit. 

The small army marched up onto the veranda, 
while the rancher gave them a critical survey. 

CouldnT be better,” he finally announced 
satisfied. Not if you had had them tailor 
made.” 

They’re certainly great,” returned Fly, a 
little awkwardly. 

Then he looked at Jerry, and the other boys 
followed his example.. There was a sudden 
silence, as they drew in a closer circle around Mr. 
Phipps. It had been planned that Jerry should 
make a short speech of thanks to their generous 
patron. But though he was brave enough when 
the suggestion was made, now that the time had 
come the boy felt himself growing shaky and 
confused. 


In Indian Land 


147 


The surprised rancher looked around at the 
quiet group a little puzzled. Finally Fly gave 
Jerry a nudge, at which the latter collected him- 
self as well as he could, and with something of a 
tremble in his voice, which seemed suddenly weak 
and faint, he began what he had planned to make 
a very grand speech. 

Mr. Phipps,^’ he said, his cheeks growing 
rapidly redder and hotter, while his knees shook, 
^ ‘ we — we — we all want to thank you very much 
•for — ” 

“ Oh, forget it,’’ entreated the man, giving the 
relieved Jerry an affectionate pat on the back. 
<< Why, you boys have nothing to thank me for. 
You’re just like my own sons — you’re Herb’s 
playmates. Yuh see Herb hasn’t any mother to 
— to — but I tell you, I like to have him associated 
with a fine lot of lads like you. Get into the house 
here, and we’ll see if we can pick up some grub.” 
The rough rancher spoke cordially, but there was 
a slight shake in his voice. 

<< We’re always grabbin’ fodder over here,” 
apologized Fly, as they made for the dining room. 

And I guess we’re here with our appetites to- 


148 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


day,’’ put in Dunk. That was a fine tramp for 
a hungry fellow. ’ ’ 

Well, go to it.” 

Lose any sheep lately? ” asked Dunk, as the 
usual hearty meal progressed, or rather disap- 
peared. 

‘‘ They haven’t bothered us since Sunday 
night ” responded Phipps. ‘‘ About time for 
something to be doing.” 

I’ve got to get back early this afternoon and 
go to work,” said Fly, when they arose from the 
table — ‘‘ filled to the eyes,” to use Gray’s words. 

“ Guess we’d better go back,” said Jerry. 

‘‘I’ve got to go to Silver City to-day myself,” 
said Mr. Phipps. “ Suppose you all pile in my 
hack and we’ll drive over.” 

This was a welcome suggestion and the boys 
quickly accepted it. 


CHAPTER XII 

THE THUNDEB BIBD ATTACKS 

Thinking that experience was the best teacher, 
Hawke decided to discontinue lessons on aviation 
until the materials for the biplane arrived and 
they could begin actual work. 

During the rest of the week, therefore, the boys, 
with the assistance of Captain Crawford, Dr. 
Rivers and the aviator, put in their time master- 
ing some of the Boy Scout requirements. • 

They organized a bucket brigade, and, by sev- 
eral mock fire fights fitted themselves to take 
care of a blaze should one occur at any time. 

That’s what we’ve been needing at this fort 
for a long time,” remarked Captain Crawford, 
when he saw the young fire fighters practicing. 
‘ ‘ In case of a fire here we ’d have to depend on the 
volunteer bunch at Silver City, and everything 
would be up in smoke before they could get here. ’ ’ 
Dr. Rivers gave the young scouts a thorough 
drilling in first aid to the injured. In his labora- 
tory, which was a large and heretofore mysteri- 
149 


150 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


ous room at the top of the house, he taught them 
many things which they did not know about the 
human body and its needs in case of accident — 
how to construct an emergency stretcher, prepare 
splints, roll and apply bandages, and stop the 
flow of blood from an artery by means of the 
tourniquet. 

I guess I’m beginning to know something,” 
said Jerry, a little proudly, when they left the 
doctor’s office just at dark Friday evening after 
an interesting lesson. 

I got real well acquainted with that hand- 
some skeleton,” remarked Gray, who had been a 
little sensitive at first about approaching the un- 
canny bony structure which Dr. Eivers called 
one of the “ ornaments ” of his experimenting 
room. 

Although Herb and Tender were urged to re- 
main at the Crawford’s for supper, the former 
thought it best to go on home. 

I can’t be very long away from dad,” he ex- 
plained,” or he has a search party out after me.” 

I didn’t realize how much this Boy Scout af- 
fair was going to do for you,” observed the cap- 
tain that night at the supper table, when Jerry 


In Indian Land 


151 


and Fred had been relating their new accomplish- 
ments. ^ ‘ I was a little skeptical at first — 
thought it was a waste of time — but I’m getting 
pretty much interested in it now myself.” 

“ I think it is a splendid idea,” agreed Mrs. 
Windham, who, mother-like, was in favor of any- 
thing that safeguarded the interest and welfare 
of her boy. 

‘ ‘ And his aeroplane stunt strikes me as pretty 
fine,” went on Jerry’s father. ‘‘ As a whole, this 
vacation is doing more for you boys than a year 
of schooling, and — ” he was interrupted by the 
ringing of the telephone bell. 

Hello — Phipps, yes, this is Crawford,” they 
heard him say. “ What’s that? Well, that’s 
strange. Oh, I don’t think it can be anything 
serious. The doctor is not at the house? Gone to 
Silver City? Well, we’ll start right out.” 

“ What is it? ” cried Mrs. Crawford, as the 
group at the table arose and surrounded the 
captain. 

“ Phipps says Herb’s horse came home alone, 
wounded in the back. He’s afraid something has 
happened to him and Graystock. Thinks it may 
be that thing that’s killing the sheep — or thiev- 
ing Greasers,” explained captain, speaking hur- 


152 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

riedly, at the same time putting on his hat and 
ringing for the maid. 

'' Tell Ike to get the horses and saddle them at 
once — three of them, ’ ’ he ordered when the ser- 
vant appeared. ‘‘ Tell him to stop and get Car- 
lito, and have them all here as soon as possible.’’ 

‘‘ Come on, boys — Phipps says he’s just start- 
ing. He says he telephoned for Dr. Rivers but he 
isn’t home. What’ll we do in case either of them 
is badly hurt? ” 

“We fellows ought to put our learning into 
practice,” spoke up Fred at once. 

“ Yes, we’ll take our emergency kits,” said 
Jerry. 

“ I doubt if you can do anything,” replied the 
captain, as they left the house. “ You haven’t 
had any practical experience yet.” 

“ We’ll do anything we can for Herb,” re- 
sponded Jerry warmly. 

“ Why not get Dunk? ” suggested Fred. “ He 
was the best of the bunch, his father being a doc- 
tor.” 

“ All right,” agreed the captain, swinging into 
his saddle, just as Carlito dashed up. 

“ What’s the matter? ” he asked, breathlessly. 


In Indian Land 


153 


They told him the situation in a few words. 

‘‘I’ll go right on,” he exclaimed, digging his 
heels into the pony’s flanks. 

On the way over to the Rivers’ residence, the 
captain and the boys met Dunk and Fly mounted 
on their horses. Mr. Phipps’ telephone message 
for the doctor had told them the news. 

“ Well, if anything’s the matter,” said the doc- 
tor’s son, “ both of them have their Red Cross 
materials with them, if they’re able to use them. 
You go on ahead,” he added. “ Fly and I are go- 
ing to bring that stretcher we made to-day, and 
some bandages and stuff. We’ll be right along.” 

The two boys wheeled their ponies, and the rest 
of the party galloped into the darkness after 
Carl. 

It was an unusually dark night, and very few 
stars relieved the dense blackness overhead. 
Fortunately, the riders were familiar with their 
road, or it would have been impossible for them to 
keep up the pace they did. 

“ Carl’ll be sure to find them if they’re any- 
wheres along here,” said Fred, breathlessly, when 
they were obliged to slow up at a particularly 
rough place. 


154 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


They urged on their horses again, and for a time 
nothing was heard through the moonless silence 
of the night but the sound of hurrying hoofs and 
the croaking of the frogs as they vied with the 
monotonous singsong of the crickets. Occasion- 
ally, from somewhere far out on the prairies, a 
lonesome coyote would wail dismally. 

After about a half hour of riding, the party on 
horseback descried through the darkness a glim- 
mering light almost in the center of the road. As 
they came nearer, Jerry blew his whistle. 

<< We’re here,” came the answer. 

That’s Phipps.” The captain breathed a 
sigh of relief. 

He’s not badly hurt,” Carlito was saying as 
they drew up to where the Indian and Tender 
Gray were bending over Herb, bandaging his arm 
while the father held the boy’s hand. 

‘‘I’ll be all right,” faintly assured Herb. 
“ Don’t you — ” but his voice trailed off into si- 
lence, and the upraised arm grew limp. 

“ Here, I brought some ammonia,” exclaimed 
Fred, springing forward, and placing a small bot- 
tle to Herb ’s nostrils, while Gray and Carl rubbed 
his arms and legs vigorously. 


In Indian Land 155 

I wish we had a stretcher/’ exclaimed Mr. 
Phipps, his voice shaking with anxiety. 

“ Dunk and Fly are coming along with one,” 
responded the captain. 

Thank heaven for that,” exclaimed the 
rancher gratefully. Carl snatched some 
branches off of the trees coming along,” he con- 
tinued ‘ ^ and made some splints on the run. ’ ’ He 
laid his hand affectionately on the Indian’s bent 
shoulders. 

A few moments later Dunk and Fly came up, 
bearing a stretcher between them. Biding had 
been rather difficult with this clumsy load. 

It was not long before Herb was comfortably 
stretched out on the improvised bed, and, resus- 
citated by the liberal whiffs of ammonia which 
Fred faithfully applied, and the constant mas- 
sage, he soon opened his eyes and smiled, as a sign 
that he had regained consciousness. 

‘‘ It’s mostly jolt,” said Dunk, who began ap- 
plying more bandages. When the arm was well 
bound up, he went over Herb’s body carefully in 
search of more injuries. 

Finding none, Mr. Phipps suggested that they 
start for the ranch. 


156 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Carl, Dunk, Fly and Fred immediately picked 
up the stretcher. 

‘‘ Feeling better, son? ’’ asked the father gently 
as they started off, the four boys carrying the 
stretcher, while those on horseback led the ponies. 

Better all the time,” answered Herb, trying 
to speak firmly. While his voice was not normal, 
it was stronger than when he first spoke. 

‘‘ What happened anyway? ” asked Fly of 
Tender Gray. 

‘‘ All I can say is, it’s just about like that time 
you got mixed up when you met Windy at Silver 
City,” answered Tender. I didn’t know any- 
thing was wrong until I heard Herb yell, and the 
next minute he was thrown from his horse, while 
the critter ran off like wild. ’ ’ 

“ Didn’t you see anything? ” urged Fred. 

** It was too dark — anyhow I didn’t look for 
anything. I got busy with Herb,” responded 
Gray. 

That’s right,” approved Mr. Phipps. ‘‘ But 
it looks to me as if it was the same devil that’s 
been botherin’ my sheep — horse’s back is cut 
pretty deep.” 

When they reached the ranch-house, Sing in- 


In Indian Land 


157 


formed them that Dr. Eivers had telephoned, and 
was on his way over. They had scarcely put 
Herb on the bed before the doctor arrived. After 
listening to a hasty explanation, he made a thor- 
ough examination of the wounded boy. 

Well, it^s just a minor fracture of the fore- 
arm, he announced finally. “ Nothing serious. 
I’ll have to set it though. 

‘ ‘ It may hurt you a little, ’ ’ he warned Herb, as 
he removed the bandages and splints, but, though 
his patient did wince once or twice, he set his 
lips tightly, and did not emit a sound of com- 
plaint. 

After it was all over, however, he sank back 
with a sigh of relief and exhaustion. With the 
aid of a sleeping potion, he was soon quietly 
resting. 

Mr. Phipps, though relieved by the doctor’s 
reassurance, was greatly agitated over the acci- 
dent, and continually paced the floor in the big 
library, his face pale and his lips set. 

‘H’ll be over early to-morrow,” the doctor told 
him. ‘‘It’s only a green stick break and will 
soon knit. The bandaging was splendidly done 
— I couldn ’t have put those splints on better my- 


158 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

self,” he added. “ By the way, did you do it? ” 

^ ‘ The boys did, ’ ^ answered the rancher, with a 
faint smile, looking affectionately around the 
anxious group. 

‘‘You certainly did well,” said the doctor 
heartily. “ I had some doubts about instructing 
you at first, but I must admit you have profited by 
your lessons wonderfully.” 

As there was nothing more to be done, the 
party from the fort prepared to start back, the 
doctor going ahead with his machine. 

“ WeVe got to get that confounded animal 
that’s causing all this trouble,” exclaimed Phipps 
as vigorously as his shaking voice would permit. 

“We’re goin’ to get him, all right! ” re- 
sponded Jerry heartily. 

“You bet we are,” reiterated Fred, with deter- 
mination, while the other boys made similar as- 
surances. 

It was a sober party that rode slowly away, 
and for a long time nothing was said. 

“It’s so quiet to-night it makes me think of 
spooks,” remarked Jerry, finally breaking the 
silence. 


In Indian Land 


159 


‘^Something makes me -feel queer too,’^ said 
Fred. 

Just then a shrill, wierd inhuman shriek came 
from somewhere in the direction of the moun- 
tains: “ Kreee-kreee-ee,’’ almost blood-curdling 
in its penetrating sharpness, cutting through the 
air like a keen knife blade, and sending unpleas- 
ant shivers down the backs of all who heard. 

Again and again it came, threatening, fore- 
boding, like some evil spirit about to swoop upon 
its prey. 

They listened, spellbound, thrilled in every 
nerve. It was not fear that seemed to clutch at 
their hearts and make them pound, or that struck 
them silent, it was an awing sense of something 
supernatural, something not quite real. It was as 
though they had suddenly caught a glimpse of a 
demon of the underworld. 

The dread cry continued for some minutes, 
then gradually grew fainter, until it seemed 
smothered by the intervening hills. 

Before any of the party gathered courage to 
speak, a tall figure, like a fleeting shadow, glided 
across the path in front of them, and rapidly dis- 
appeared into the darkness. He seemed bent on 


160 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

an errand and was going toward the northeast 
mountain ranges. 

“ It^s the Indian/^ whispered Carl, as the form 
hurried into the darkness. 

“ What do you suppose that noise was? 
queried Jerry in a low tone. 

Was it a hawk? asked Fly cautiously, 
crowding nearer to Carl. 

IVe heard hawks cry and eagles scream, but 
never like that,’' returned the Indian, his voice 
growing louder. 

“ What was it then? ” asked Fly in a natural 
voice, gathering courage as the conversation pro- 
gressed. 

“ I never heard one, of course,” replied Carl 
slowly, “but I think that was the Thunder Bird.” 

“ That’s just what it was,” exclaimed Dunk at 
once. 

For some moments nobody spoke, then Carl said 
reflectively: “ I suppose that Indian friend of ours 
heard it too, and is on the trail.” 

“ You’d better look out or he’ll get it before 
you do,” commented the captain, who had heard 
of the mysterious stranger. 


CHAPTER Xm 


AT WOEK ON THE AEROPLANE 

The following day the first box of material ar- 
rived from Kansas City, and was taken to Mr. 
Giles’ machine shop, which, having formerly been 
the army stables, was a great deal larger than 
was needed for the machinist ’s work, and he was 
able to give Hawke and the boys a roomy space at 
the rear. 

A box from Denver came on Monday morning, 
and in the afternoon there was a consignment 
from New York. The engine was to be sent by 
freight from Fort Omaha, and would take some 
time to reach Silver City, but, as Hawke ex- 
plained, it was the last thing to be used and the 
delay would not matter. 

By Wednesday morning, therefore, which was 
the day after the Fourth, all was ready to go 
ahead on the aeroplane. The Fourth had been 
unusually quiet for the boys because Herb could 
not take part in any active festivities. While his 
injury had been slight, and was now practically 
161 


162 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


healed, his father insisted that he should remain 
perfectly quiet and not become excited by un- 
warranted celebration. This was a hardship for 
so active a boy as Herb, but to please his father 
he obeyed without complaint. 

As reparation, the rancher ordered a lavish dis- 
play of fireworks from Albuquerque, and in the 
evening the boys were entertained by an exhibi- 
tion that was worthy of young princes. 

The exhilaration which followed this event, 
their sympathy for Herb, the gratitude they felt 
for the generous rancher, and their eagerness to 
solve the mystery of the Bread Pudding ranch, 
which was heightened by the incidents of the last 
few weeks, coupled with their growing interest in 
aviation, gave the boys an enthusiasm for the 
work of constructing the biplane which guaran- 
teed success. 

Hawke set up his model in the shop for their 
guidance, and, desiring to start them with funda- 
mentals, he dissected the wing of a hawk, and, the 
first thing Wednesday morning, explained to 
them the first principles of plane construction, 
using the formation of the wing as an illustration. 

“ The early planes were straight,’’ he ex- 


In Indian Land 


163 


plained, but we have since learned that the 
curved surfaces are far more efficient. Keep in 
mind the idea of the bird, the shape of his wings, 
and you have the best working basis for building 
a plane. The aviator believed, with some other 
specialists, that examples taken from nature were 
the best sort of instruction for the novice. 

The materials were unpacked, including all 
necessary tools, and without wasting much time 
on preliminaries, the boys set heartily to work. 

I am planning to equip this machine with 
swinging wing ends,^^ said Hawke. ‘‘ This is 
something not used on many biplanes, but it will 
be necessary to have them if we are to follow the 
maneuvers of a bird. If the wing tips are made 
with a down curve at their ends, the result of 
swinging them to the rear will be to increase the 
lifting power, while at the same time reducing the 
resistance of the air to forward movement. This 
would afford an ideal method of steering, being 
exactly like that employed by birds. 

Later, when work was begun on these wing tips, 
the boys fully understood Hawke’s theory. 

Another innovation which Hawke planned for 
the machine was a mica window in the forward 


164 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

part of the fuselage, which would enable them to 
see what was passing below them, without leaning 
over or altering the angle of the planes. 

While the boys worked and followed directions, 
Hawke explained the parts and their use on the 
machine. Fred and Fly proved themselves the 
most accomplished at first, owing to their previ- 
ous experience with mechanics and aeroplanes. 
Gray also had a previous knowledge of the possi- 
bilities of aeronautics, and it was not long before 
all of the boys were intelligently working on 
Hawke’s model and making progress. 

Mr. Phipps rode over from the ranch almost 
every day to see them at work, and was much 
pleased with the rapid advance his son was mak- 
ing. Entirely recovered from the accident. Herb 
was as useful as any of his companions, and, be- 
sides evincing a great deal of mechanical skill, 
which he had never been called upon to display 
before, he readily grasped the principles Hawke 
continually ground into his pupils. 

You see. Had,” Herb said, when the rancher 
had inquired, on the occasion of one of his visits 
five or six days after work had been begun, about 
the use of the propeller, the particular part on 


In Indian Land 


165 


which Herb was working, ^ ‘ the propeller is every- 
thing on an aeroplane. It’s got to be made just 
right, or the whole thing goes to smash. If it 
wasn’t for the propeller the machine wouldn’t go 
at all,” he finished triumphantly. 

‘‘ Oh, indeed,” remarked the southerner, an 
amused twinkle in his eye. And what’s the rea- 
son for that? ” 

“ Well, yuh see,” replied Herb, seriously, not 
noticing the smile playing about his father’s 
mouth, and anxious to display his newly acquired 
knowledge, “it’s the thing that moves the ma- 
chine forward, and it has almost everything to do 
with the pitch and speed. The surfaces of the 
aeroplane are called the skin, and there is some 
friction of air against these surfaces, and that is 
called skin friction. Well, yuh see, the propeller 
has to make the machine move through the air 
with the smallest amount of skin friction. It has 
to travel through as large an amount of air as pos- 
sible in a certain time, and take as little power as 
possible. Yuh understand? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” exclaimed the rancher, unable to 
restrain a short laugh. “ How about that, 
Hawke? ” 


166 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

‘‘He’s right, responded the aviator, slapping 
his young pupil on the back. “ He’s got the dope 
exactly.” 

“Yes, but a good deal depends on the operator,” 
chipped in Fly, who was ambitious to excel as an 
aviator, and could scarcely wait until the ma- 
chine was finished to try his hand. 

“I’m working on the box-girder,” said Dunk, 
feeling called upon to give an account of himself. 

“ What’s that,” asked Mr. Phipps indulgently. 

“It’s the part that really bears the greatest 
weight — a sort of a beam with the weight in the 
center, fixed so it bears the load equally distrib- 
uted. You can see one on Hawke ’s model. ’ ’ 

“ And one of the important things,” said Jerry, 
not to be outdone, “ is to build the plane so the 
guy wires remain taut, and the main spars, ribs 
and struts are properly placed.” 

“ Yes, and then we have to remember to built 
it as light as we can and as strong as we can,” put 
in Gray. “ We want to go fast, but we don’t want 
accidents, so we can’t make it as light as we’d 
like. Oftentimes we have to make a part heavier 
to be sure it’s strong enough.” 

Other technical information was glibly imparted 


In Indian Land 


167 


when Captain Crawford dropped in occasionally. 
Dr. Eivers also paid the shop frequent visits, while 
the ladies did not neglect to show an interest in 
the work. 

In fact, everyone in and about the fort shared 
the enthusiasm of the young aviators, and the 
aeroplane got to be the most important topic of 
conversation. Hawke was obliged to put a sign 
on the door of the shop: ‘^no admittance,’’ in or- 
der to keep away the soldiers. Greasers, loafers, 
and even Indians who had a habit of dropping in 
and interrupting the work. 

About eight days after construction started 
they were ready for a hangar. As Mr. Phipps 
sent over two of his idle Greasers to erect this, 
work on the aeroplane was not stopped. The shed 
was erected just north of the machine shop, fac- 
ing the old parade grounds, which was an ideal 
spot for the first try-out. 

‘‘I’m anxious to test my new feature of equal- 
izing the stress and distribution of weight,” 
Hawke explained to Mr. Phipps, who had come 
over with the Greasers. “ I want to be able to 
carry all of the boys, if possible, and this is a dif- 
ficult feat, for the greater the number of passen- 


168 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


gers carried the greater is the tax on the stability 
of the machine. The hoys have shown such un- 
usual ability in carrying out my ideas, however, 
that I think I am going to be able to perfect the 
device and prove its efficiency in a flight or two. ’ ' 
The day the hangar was completed, the engine 
arrived. A small truck which Mr. Giles had in 
the shop was to be used in wheeling the aeroplane 
out of the shop through the big middle doors of 
the stable, and into the hangar. 

My, ain’t she a beautiful bird,” exclaimed 
Jerry, when they put away their tools, and were 
proudly viewing the result of their work, for the 
aeroplane was set up complete with the exception 
of the engine, and stood mounted on the small 
wheeled truck ready for removal. A trial flight 
was to be made in the morning. 

You can’t beat that anywhere in the world,” 
said Dunk, proudly. 

“ I almost feel as though she were alive,” com- 
mented Herb. 

I must say you did a mighty fine job, boys,” 
said Hawke, ‘ ‘ and if she flies as well as she looks, 
we’ll put in our application for medals.” 


In Indian Land 


169 


“ Is there any chance that she won’t fly? ” 
asked Fly anxiously. 

“ You never know what a brand new plane is 
going to do,” responded Hawke, “and you’re 
never sure till you’re gliding safely up in the air, 
whether or not all the cogs are in tight. But I 
don’t think there’s much danger that this one 
won’t fly.” 

“ We’ll steer straight for that old tower,” said 
Jerry, “ and see if we can’t roust out the Thun- 
der Bird — or devil bird, whatever it is.” 

“ Better watch for it some dark night near 
the sheep fold,” suggested Herb. “It’s about 
due to be around here now. We haven’t seen it 
for some time. But another rancher several miles 
north of father says he’s had some sheep hurt and 
taken, so I suppose it ’s shifted its hunting ground 
for a while.” 

“ Gee, I’m awful anxious to find out just what 
it is anyway,” exclaimed Fred. “ Certainly is a 
mysterious animal.” 

“ Have you seen that old Indian snooping 
around here? ” inquired Herb, changing the sub- 
ject. “ I saw him a minute or two ago peeping in 


170 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

through the door over there, but I didn^t say any- 
thing at the time/^ 

“ Oh, I suppose he has some superstitious idea 
that this is a destroying evil spirit we’re build- 
ing,” said Carl. Only I wish he would keep 
away. The way he stands around and peers makes 
me nervous.” 

He doesn’t seem to pay any attention to the 
‘^No Admittance” sign,” remarked Hawke, smil- 
ing. 

Suppose he can’t read English,” said Carl. 
‘ ‘ But I have a sneaking suspicion that he can un- 
derstand it. It’s an old trick of the Indian to 
stand around and look as innocent as a brick 
wall, and yet take in everything you say.” 

“ We’ve been talking a lot about the Thunder 
Bird lately,” observed Fly. “ Maybe that’s in- 
terested him.” 

I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s planning some 
deviltry,” Carl remarked as they left the shop. 

He’s got some exaggerated notion about the 
Thunder Bird already.” 

As they entered the parade grounds they saw 
the retreating form of the strange Indian. 

‘‘I’ll bet he’s been listening,” exclaimed Carl, 


In Indian Land 


171 


a little disturbed. ‘‘ There’s no tellin’ what a 
half-cracked, superstitious Indian may get into 
his head.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


THE FIKE 

“You fellows have certainly made wonderful 
progress/’ Mr. Giles said to Fly that evening as 
he sat on the porch of their residence with his 
wife and son. “ That man Hawke is a wonder. 
I’m as proud as anybody of that fine aeroplane, 
and mighty proud that my boy helped in build- 
ing it. 

“You ain’t any prouder than I am,” said Fly, 
while his mother stroked his red locks affection- 
ately. “ Hawke says he thinks I’m going to make 
a good flier. Gee, won’t it be great to be up in 
the air sailing around like a bird ! ’ ’ 

“I’m a little afraid of accidents,” said Mrs. 
Giles, who had been somewhat worried about the 
safety of the venture, but had not wished to 
dampen her son’s enthusiasm. 

“ Oh, leave that to Hawke,” exclaimed Fly con- 
fidently. “He’s going to make the first flight, 
although I wouldn’t be afraid to go with him. Be- 
sides, we’ve got to get that sheep stealer. Herb’s 

172 


In Indian Land 


173 


dad has been mighty good to us. We fellows are 
just crazy to find out what that killing thing is 
anyway. Gee, you ought to hear the way he 
howled the night Herb got hurt! ” Even now, 
Fly thrilled at the memory of the experience. 

‘‘ Hello, he broke in, as Dunk appeared some 
yards from the house. ‘ ^ Come on over. ’ ’ 

“ I^m tired,’’ sighed Dunk, as he sat down be- 
side Fly on the stoop, ‘‘ but I can’t think of go- 
ing to bed, I’m so excited over that plane.” 

To-morrow we get it in the hangar,” began 
Fly, ‘‘then the engine and then, whoopee, up she 
goes! ” 

Fred, Jerry and Carlito strolled by at that mo- 
ment, and, when they had joined the pair on the 
porch, made the same complaint as Dunk. 

“ I’m a little cut up over that old Indian, too,” 
pondered Carl. “ I wouldn’t be afraid to meet 
him single-handed, but when a redskin gets to 
plotting things behind his paint, watch out! ” 

“ Oh, don’t worry about that,” protested Dunk, 
who did not understand as well as Carl the ma- 
licious nature of a semi-wild Indian. “ He’s just 
a little bit cracked, that’s all.” 

“ Sure,” corroborated Jerry. “ The bunch of 


J74 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

us wouldn’t do a thing to him if he got actin’ 
funny. ’ ’ 

Carl had apparently dismissed the subject, how- 
ever, for he was throwing his knife with a dexter- 
ity that only an Indian could have displayed. His 
action invited competition, and soon there was a 
lively contest in progress. Mr. and Mrs. Giles 
withdrew and left the boys to their game. 

Say, what’s that? ” exclaimed Dunk sud- 
denly, in a voice of alarm. 

Smoke,” yelled Jerry, jumping to his feet. 

“ Fire in the machine shop! ” fairly screamed 
Carl as he started off on a run. 

The aeroplane! ” gasped Fly. 

^ ‘ Get your buckets, quick ! ’ ’ ordered Fred, the 
coolest one of the bunch. 

The boys ran to the side of the old barracks, 
just south of the machine shop, where the buckets 
were kept, yelling ^ ^ Fire ! Fire ! ” at the same 
time. 

As they turned the corner of the barracks 
sharply they unexpectedly bumped into the mys- 
terious red man, who was crouching and feeling 
his way along the wall. They were too excited to 
attach any importance to the occurrence at the mo- 


In Indian Land 


175 


ment, and the Indian was soon making swiftly for 
the open prairies to the west. 

Aroused by the commotion, people were now 
running from all directions, and in an incredibly 
short time there was a good-sized crowd at the 
scene of the fire. 

Carl had gone immediately to the shop. ‘ ‘ Get a 
hose,’’ he shouted to some idly gaping Greasers 
and soldiers who stood looking at the smoke which 
poured from the cracks of the doors and win- 
dows. 

Bring some buckets,” he ordered to another 
group. 

Carl made for the double doors, where a sol- 
dier was struggling to throw them apart. 

‘ ‘ Here, keep those shut, ’ ’ he commanded. ‘ ‘ Do 
you want to eat the place up with drafts ? ’ ’ 

‘‘ We must keep it away from the plane,” 
gasped Hawke, who had arrived a second before. 

The small brigade had formed a double chain 
from the well to the machine shop. One line 
passed the filled buckets and the other returned 
them empty. Soldiers and Greasers were put to 
work. 

‘‘It’s in the front,” Fred announced. 


176 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Immediately Carl smashed in a front pane with 
his fist, for the window was locked on the inside. 

Shove that hose in here,’’ said Fred, as the 
soldier came up with a small garden hose which 
gave forth a shallow spray of water. 

Carl smashed in the companion window, and 
started to get inside. 

Here, hold on, Carl,” protested Hawke. 
‘‘ That won’t do.” 

But Carl shook him off and sprang through. 

Hand some buckets to me,” he said. Fly, 
standing at the well, filled the buckets, passing 
them on down the line until they reached Carl, who 
threw them on the flames and then handed them 
back. 

Hawke leaned through the window and tied a 
wet handkerchief over Carl’s mouth and nose. 

It had now grown quite dark, and there was lit- 
tle evidence of the fire from the outside of the 
building, except for the smoke which poured 
through the windows and cracks of the doors. 

After a few minutes Carl sprang out of the win- 
dow. 

‘‘It’s eating its way toward the center,” he 
announced hurriedly, snatching the handkerchief 


In Indian Land 


177 


from his face. We^ll have to take a chance on 
getting the plane out. Keep fighting though. ^ ’ 

Fred took up his position outside and they 
fought the fire as best they could through the 
open windows. Hawke, Jerry and Carl went to 
the side double doors. 

Captain Crawford and Mr. Giles arrived at this 
time, and took turns relieving the boys, whose 
arms were aching from swinging the heavy 
buckets. 

While the structure was of substantial brick, 
and the equipment of the machine shop consisted 
mostly of iron and metal and little combustible 
material, a large amount of debris had been piled 
in one comer of the shop, awaiting removal, and 
this burned quickly, giving the fire a good start. 
The one thought in the minds of the boys was to 
keep the flames from getting back to the aero- 
plane. 

Hawke, Carl and Jerry had decided t© open the 
double doors and go inside the burning building. 
As the others were at the front fighting the fire, 
there was no one to protest, except some of the 
frightened Greasers who insisted that You fel- 
lows ^11 get killed.’’ 


178 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Close those doors as soon as we get in,^^ said 
Carl in answer to their protests. ‘ ‘ And the min- 
ute we give the signal open them again. 

Don’t lose any time opening them, either,” 
warned Hawke. “We’ll all be needing air by 
that time.” 

“ Jump in as quick as you can, Jerry,” said 
Carl, as they slid the door back just enough to 
make an entrance. 

Once inside, all three dropped on their hands 
and knees, first tying about the lower parts of 
their faces handkerchiefs which they had damp- 
ened. 

They crept, wriggled and crawled in the direc- 
tion of the machine. The air was stifling, and it 
was with the greatest difiiculty that they could 
breathe, but, groping in the smoke and darkness, 
Carl finally got his hands on the truck. 

Jerry and Hawke were quick to give him as- 
sistance, though none of them could do much more 
than fumble, handicapped as they were by the 
smoke and heat and their awkward position. The 
truck was a frail affair, and it would have been 
slow work at best. Under present conditions, the 
peril of upsetting the plane and of damaging if 


In Indian Land 


179 


not losing it in the fire trap, demanded double 
caution. 

Speech was impossible, but the three rescuers 
were practically of one mind, all realizing the im- 
portance of the hazardous mission they had un- 
dertaken, as inch by inch, they cautiously moved 
the plane nearer to the closed door. Hawke 
slowly pushed from the rear, while Carl and Jerry 
crawled on each side, steadying the machine with 
upraised arms. Their position was awkward and 
uncomfortable. After a few minutes it grew ac- 
tually painful, their arms and bodies aching from 
the strain, and they felt themselves gradually 
growing weaker. 

The fire had now about reached the center of 
the shop, and they could hear the shouts of the 
boys and others, ignorant of their plight, outside. 
Jerry could hear his father’s voice raised in com- 
mand, now and then, but, though he was gaining 
ground, the voices outside seemed growing fainter 
and fainter. 

‘‘ Doctor Eivers has gone to Silver City with 
his machine to bring down the fire department,” 
said Captain Crawford, his shirt soiled and wet 
and his face grimy with smoke. 


180 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

The bucket brigade had kept up a continuous 
fight, and had done admirably in keeping the 
blaze in check. The fire had had such a start, 
however, that it seemed almost impossible to save 
the building. They were all, therefore, very much 
relieved to learn of Dr. Eivers’ action and that 
help might soon be forthcoming. 

‘‘ Maybe we can keep it under way until that 
time,’^ said Fred, swinging a bucket in his aching 
arms. Two reels of hose had been found about 
the fort, and these were being used by Dunk and 
Captain Crawford. Three or four lanterns had 
been lit, but their pale light was scarcely needed,^ 
for the moon shone down full and bright, and this, 
aided by the light of the fire, which had eaten 
through the front of the building, made the fort 
as bright as day. 

‘‘ Whereas Carl? ’’ suddenly asked Dunk. 

Jerry isn’t here either,” exclaimed Captain 
Crawford, hastily inspecting the line of boys. 

At that moment a soldier rushed up to the cap- 
tain. 

“ Three of your fellows went into the shop 
quite a while ago,” he shouted above the din. 
“ They told us not to open the doors until they 


In Indian Land 


181 


gave the signal. Said they were going to get the 
aeroplane out. Seems they Ve been there a long 
time.’’ 

The captain paled and dropped his hose, start- 
ing after the soldier on a run. After disposing of 
their buckets, which they put into the hands of 
two watching Greasers, Dunk and Fred started 
after them. 

A loud toot was heard just then, and Dr. Rivers 
came dashing up, his machine loaded with men 
from Silver City, the hose cart being attached to 
the back of the automobile. The new firemen 
started to work at once, a great relief to the tired 
boys and men of the fort. A second after. Herb 
and his father galloped into the parade grounds. 

‘‘ Throw open those doors,” gasped the cap- 
tain, when the party reached the rear of the build- 
ing. Fred and Dunk readily complied. The air 
poured into the interior, driving the smoke back 
and a sheet of eager flames mounted to the ceiling. 

Within a foot of the door, however, was the 
aeroplane. As Fred rushed into the building he 
stumbled over the prostrate body of Carl, who 
had managed to crawl as far as the door to give 
the signal but had lost consciousness at the last 


182 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

moment. He was quickly dragged out into the 
open air, while the captain, Herb, Dunk and Fly, 
throwing themselves down on all fours, crept 
after the other two. They located them not far 
from Carl, by the side of the machine, and all 
three were soon receiving careful attention from 
Dr. Eivers. 

Jerry and Hawke were soon revived, and taken 
to the Crawford residence where they were put 
under the care of Mrs. Crawford and Mrs. Wind- 
ham. 

CarPs condition gave some alarm. All efforts 
of the doctor to bring him to consciousness seemed 
fruitless. There was a great bump over his left 
temple, showing that he had hurt himself in fall- 
ing, and the blow had partly stunned him. 

At last, however, to the great relief of every- 
body, he opened his eyes. At first he looked be- 
wildered at the anxious faces above him. Then 
catching sight of a bucket which Fly held in his 
hand, he seemed to realize the state of affairs at 
once. 

Suddenly, without warning, he jumped to his 
feet. 

“ I must get the money out of my room,’’ he 


In Indian Land 


183 


cried, lurching forward, but fell back again limp. 

The boys looked from one to the other. For 
the first time since the fire began they remembered 
that OarPs room was over the shop, and by this 
time, was completely ruined. 


CHAPTER XV 

EEPAIRING THE PLANE 

There was no time to be lost. Dr. Rivers and 
Mr. Giles carried Carl to the latter’s home, where 
he lay in a semi-conscious condition the rest of 
the night, talking incoherently about going to col- 
lege, saving his money, being robbed of it, and 
calling now and again for the old squaw who had 
given him his charm and had told him the story of 
his father’s death. At intervals he would break 
out with fierce denunciations against the mysteri- 
ous redskin. 

Meanwhile, satisfied that their brave friends 
had been taken care of, Fred and Dunk ran back 
to the shop, which was now enveloped in smoke, 
flames shooting out of the upper story. As they 
reached the opening, near which the plane stood, 
several threatening creaks warned them of the 
danger of entering. 

That roof’s going to fall,” exclaimed one of 
the soldiers. 

‘‘ Hey, are you crazy! ” shouted another. 

184 


In Indian Land 


185 


Don’t go in there! ” But before they could be 
detained the two boys darted into the smoke. 
They were just in time to escape the restraining 
hand of the captain and Mr. Phipps, who were 
running a few yards behind. There was a moment 
of terrible suspense, then a crash, and the plane 
pitched forward into the parade grounds. 

The captain and the ranchman, in a tremor of 
apprehension, started into the smoke, but a sol- 
dier’s voice arrested them. 

They’re under the machine,” he shouted. 

Quickly tipping the plane back into position, 
the men found the boys, who had been pinioned 
under it. Their clothing was tom, and covered 
with mud, but the boys, fortunately, were unhurt. 

** Is it safe? ” gasped Fred, jumping to his feet. 

‘‘ Is it all right? ” was Fly’s first question. 

But there was no time to inspect the machine 
carefully for damage. It must be hauled into the 
hangar as soon as possible. The draft-fed 
flames were shooting hungry, livid red tongues 
skyward, and the almost deafening noise of fall- 
ing bricks and timber too well foretold the fate of 
the building. 


186 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Here, everybody lend a hand,’’ said Herb, 
perspiring from the intense heat of the fire. 

Pick the machine np on your shoulders,’’ Mr. 
Phipps ordered several of the idlers. 

“ And get away from this building quick, be- 
fore the side wall falls, ’ ’ commanded the captain. 
This note of warning served to send all the onlook- 
ers scurrying to a safe distance. 

Soon the precious aeroplane was safe in the new 
shed. 

‘‘^Suppose there’s two weeks’ repairs on it,” 
lamented Fly. 

“ Never saw such luck,” complained Herb, but 
added quickly, We ought to be glad, though, 
that nobody got hurt.” 

They turned from their task of lodging the 
machine, just in time to see the walls and roof of 
the shop cave in completely. A choking mass of 
thick smoke rolled out of the debris. The blaze 
was soon extinguished, but the building was a 
complete ruin. 

Now, how do you suppose that fire started? ” 
asked Dunk, when, an hour later, and long past 
midnight, the tired boys started for their homes. 
All was quiet at the Fort now; everybody had 


In Indian Land 


187 


gone to seek tkeir long deferred rest, except Dr. 
Elvers, who had taken the fire fighters back to 
Silver City. 

Before the rising sun had gilded the mountain 
tops. Dunk and Fly, tired but too restless to 
sleep, were again at the feebly smoking ruins. 

They were soon joined by Herb Phipps, his fa- 
ther and Tender Gray, who had remained at the 
Fort overnight. 

‘‘ Too bad about Carl,^’ reflected Fly. 

‘ ‘ He was saving that money so long too, ’ ’ con- 
tinued Gray. 

WishT I’d thought of it,” said Dunk; I’d 
risked my neck to get it.” 

Just shows what Carl is,” added Herb. He 
went in after that plane and never thought about 
his own stuff.” 

‘ ‘ I’ll make him let me put up for it,” put in Mr. 
Phipps. The boy deserves it for his bravery.” 

How is he this morning. Dunk? ” asked Gray. 

He’s all right now. I left him eating his 
breakfast in bed. He wanted to get up, but fa- 
ther says he might as well take it easy for a half 
a day or so until he gets stronger.” 

Hello, fellows,” greeted Jerry heartily. 


188 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


What do you think of the heroes? The avi- 
ator, paler, but smiling as ever, accompanied 
young Crawford, and they both jokingly de- 
manded the reward of the brave. 

“ You deserve it too, and no kiddinV^ observed 
Herb seriously. 

“ Well, let’s take a look at the plane,” said 
Hawke. “ Wonder how much damage there is.” 

“ Eight upper wing pretty badly jammed on 
the left side,” he said, after he had given the 
plane an inspection. “ These wires will have to 
be restrung. Oh, I guess we can fix her up in a 
couple of days.” 

“ That’s lucky,” said Fly. Thought we’d 
have to take her all apart.” 

“ Lucky thing Ike didn’t bring that engine 
over to the shop,” commented Hunk. We 
never would have gotten that out.” 

Pretty good luck all around,” responded 
Hawke, optimistically. So cheer up, and let’s 
get busy right away this afternoon repairing the 
Thunder Bird, If we’re goin’ to chase thieves 
we’ve got to get at it soon.” 

In the afternoon, Carl, whose active spirit 
chafed under the restraint put upon him by Hr. 


In Indian Land 


189 


Elvers, broke bonds and escaped from the sick- 
room. The boys were industriously working on 
the plane when he appeared, a little haggard and 
hollow-eyed, at the hangar. 

Hello there, old scout, exclaimed Herb 
heartily. “ Glad you^re out.^^ 

“Was she much smashed up? asked the In- 
dian, smiling rather forcedly. 

“Not much, we can mend her up in a couple of 
days,^’ responded Hawke. 

“ Too bad we went under before we got her 
clear out,’’ continued Carl, “ but I’m glad it isn’t 
damaged worse than it is.” 

“ Guess I’ll take a walk over to the cliffs,” 
added the Indian, reflectively. ‘ ‘ There ’s enough 
of you working on this.” 

“ The cliffs? ” echoed Fred interrogatively. 

“ Yes, I’m going to see if I can scare up that 
confounded Indian,” responded Carl, shutting his 
lips rather tightly, a light in his eyes which the 
boys had never seen there before. 

“ The strange Indian? ” repeated Jerry un- 
comprehending. 

“ Sure thing. He’s the fellow that’s done all 


190 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

this/’ said Carl. ‘‘ And he’s going to meet me on 
the warpath for it too.” 

‘‘ Better not get mixed np with him, Carl,” ad- 
vised Hawke, seeing that the boy was rather ex- 
cited and fearing that his savage nature might as- 
sert itself. “Wait till he turns up here and we’ll 
all get after him.” 

Carl did not reply, but, turning, walked away 
in the direction of the mountain trail. 

“ Maybe it was the old scout,” reflected Dunk. 
“ You know what Carl said the very afternoon of 
the fire.” 

“ And we bumped into him snooping back of 
the barracks right after the fire started,” con- 
tinued Fly. 

“ He’s after the Thunder Bird, too,” went on 
Gray. “ Say, I’ll bet he did it, all right.” 

“ Dad went in to see Carl this morning,” said 
Herb ; ‘ ‘ wanted him to let him make up the money 
he had lost, but Carl wouldn’t hear to it. Maybe 
he’ll come ’round in a day or two, when he has 
time to think it over.” 

“ Say, fellows, did you see in the paper that 
Chance, the big New York aviator is going to fly 


In Indian Land 


191 


over this way in a week or so? ” asked Hawke, 
changing the conversation. 

‘‘ No — haven ^t looked at a paper to-day/’ re- 
sponded Fly. None of the other hoys had heard 
the news. 

‘‘ My, that’ll he great,” exclaimed Jerry. 

What’s he coming this way for? ” 

“We’re on the route. You know, he’s in the 
contest for the $10,000 longest distance record,” 
answered Hawke. 

“Is he the guy that won the highest altitude 
prize,” asked Dunk. 

“ That’s the one. He’s gone into teaching 
lately in New York City, and charges $500 for 
four hours.” 

“ Whew! I’ll take a minute and one-eighth,” 
laughed Gray. 

“ Do you know him? ” asked Fred. 

“ Yes, met him once in New York. Fine chap. 
Nerves like cast iron,” answered Hawke. 

“ Gee, can’t you write and ask him to stop 
here,” asked Fly. 

“ He’s going to make a stop at Albuquerque, 
according to the newspaper account, so I don’t 
suppose he’ll drop off here.” 


192 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Wouldn^t it be sport to meet him with our 
plane! ’’ exclaimed Fly. 

“ Maybe we can/^ said Hawke. ‘‘We might 
run him a race for a mile or so. ’ ^ 

“ Jiminy, that^d be great/ ^ cried Jerry, almost 
dropping his hammer. 

“ Hope I can fly by then,” commented Fred. 

“ Me too,” eagerly exclaimed Fly. “ Wonder 
if Ifll ever be tryin’ for a record,” he added wist- 
fully. 

“ Can’t tell,” laughed Hawke. 

That evening when Carl returned he reported 
that he had been unable to find the Indian, and 
that he had not been seen around the cliff dwell- 
ings fer several days. 

“ Tommy says the last time he saw him he told 
him he was going up into the mountains to look 
for the Thunder Bird,” said Carl. “ That’s the 
bee in his bonnet, all right.” 

“ So long as he don’t come ’round here making 
bonfires out of our Thunder Bird, we’ll leave him 
alone,” commented Jerry. 

Though Carl visited the cliffs every day after 
that, the Indian either religiously avoided him or 
had previously disappeared. 


In Indian Land 


193 


Three days later the aeroplane was again in 
first-class condition, and Monday, the first week in 
August, was set for the try-out day. 

The news was noised abroad, and people for 
miles around were planning to be present at the 
event. Great excitement prevailed at the Fort, 
where the boys and their handiwork became the 
center of interest. 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE FIRST FLIGHT 

A group of curious spectators stood around the 
Thunder Bird open-mouthed and wide of eye. 

‘‘You tell me that thing go up — up high? 
No! ’’ expostulated one of the Mexicans with a 
gesture of skepticism. 

“ Da boys make him fly,’^ said another, grinning, 
and showing an even row of milk-white teeth. 

“ Na, not da leetle boys! protested a third, 
mopping his perspiring swarthy skin with a red 
bandanna handkerchief, for the day was a warm 
one and the sun had almost reached the middle of 
its daily course. 

“ Funniest lookin’ thing I ever seed,” put in a 
lame soldier, hobbling around the machine and 
scrutinizing it doubtfully. He had, like a number 
of his comrades, spent the last decade or so in and 
around the fort, hearing little of the outside world. 

“ Who’s goin’ to shoot it up! ” asked a sheep 
herder, with some notion of a sky rocket. He had 
194 


In Indian Land 


195 


begged the day off in order to be present at the 
first flight. 

‘‘ Da leetle kids,’^ replied a fat, indolent-look- 
ing Greaser, spitting a generous supply of to- 
bacco juice. “I na believe it,” he added, with a 
foolish grin which was intended to betoken 
shrewd disbelief. 

“ That so,” laughed the soldier. “ What you 
think, John? ” he asked another. 

“ No sabe,” responded the Mexican, spreading 
out his palms. ‘‘ Spak no Angloise.” He 
turned his attention to the machine which he had 
been inspecting with childlike interest. 

I’d give a dollar for a cool breeze,” sighed a 
soldier, skimming off the moisture that had gath- 
ered on his face and neck. 

Grouped about Hawke were the aspiring young 
aviators — the Fort Bayard bunch and the two 
from the Bread Pudding ranch. Their bright 
faces were rosy with excitement, and Hawke’s 
was flushed with eagerness. 

“ Suppose it shouldn’t work,” whispered Fly, 
breathlessly, afraid to sound aloud the uncon- 
fessed fear which he did not share alone. 


196 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Forget that noise/ ^ reproved Jerry. Just 
leave it to Hawke. He says she^s going to.” 

Dry up, old man,” chided Dunk. Didn^t 
we make it — then it^s all right.” 

‘‘You bet it^s goin’ to work,” confidently as- 
sured Herb, unwilling to allow himseK a mo- 
ment’s doubt. 

Perhaps Hawke himself was a little anxious, 
for his habitual cool demeanor had given place to 
a rather apparent agitation. He continually 
plowed his hands through his damp hair as he 
went about giving the machine a final examina- 
tion. 

“ Is she all right? ” inquired Dunk, when the 
aviator, seemingly satisfied, straightened up and 
discontinued his examination. 

“ As slick as a whistle,” returned Hawke 
cheerily, springing lightly into the plane. 

A touch of his hand and the motor was buzzing 
impatiently. 

“ Fine day for a try-out,” he observed. “ Not 
a breath of wind stirring.” 

Fred and Dunk were instructed to hold the tail 
at the start, and J erry was to turn the screw that 
set the machine in motion. 


In Indian Land 


197 


I^m ready now, any time,’’ said .Hawke, with 
perfect composure. 

Clear away, everybody,” commanded Cap- 
tain Crawford, but it took both Mm and Mr. 
Phipps to force the crowd back against the build- 
ings surrounding the parade grounds. 

‘‘When I fire, up she goes,” laughed Herb, 
rather nervously, gripping the revolver which he 
held in his hand. He almost hesitated to fire the 
shot that should decide the fate of their earnest 
labors. 

Hawke, however, had regained his natural calm, 
and sat waiting, composed and confident. 

“ Let ’er go,” he commanded, taking hpld of 
the lever with a sure and steady hand. 

“ One, two, three — bang! ” 

A puff of smoke — then the whirr of the pro- 
pellers, creating a sudden wind which blew hats 
off and left the bystanders breathless — and the 
man-made bird was running swiftly over the 
smooth parade grounds like a low-flying bird. 

There was a murmur among the crowd, a strain- 
ing of necks and eyes, and an unconscious leaning 
forward. Then, as the aeroplane, with an almost 
imperceptible slant, challenged the air and grad- 


198 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


ually ascended, a shout of spontaneous admiration 
arose, gaining in volume and reaching such a 
thunderous climax that it seemed to call forth an 
echo from the distant mountains. 

Again and again the skillfully guided plane 
swept gracefully over the group of buildings, its 
circle constantly widening as it rose, and, finally, 
shot above the tall flag pole. On and up it went, 
swift as a hawk, gracefully taking higher and 
higher altitudes, until the crowd, realizing the 
height attained, began to gasp almost with fear, 
their heads strained back painfully, their hands 
shading their eyes. 

At last the plane, with rhythmic undulations, 
began to descend, its purring music growing 
louder as, accomplishing slow circles, it came 
nearer and nearer, until, amidst a hush that was 
almost deathlike, it skimmed the ground and lit, a 
few feet from the starting point. 

Again there was a mighty yell, and hats went 
up as Hawke leaped joyously upon the firm 
ground. 

Faces alight, the boys pressed around him, al- 
most speechless with delight. The first joy of 


In Indian Land 


199 


real success was upon ttem all. They had at- 
tempted a splendid task, and they had won! 

The crowd, refusing to be held back longer, 
streamed to the center of the grounds, like water 
surging over a suddenly opened dam. 

“ Marvelous,’’ exclaimed Mr. Phipps, the first 
to find his voice. 

This single word opened the flood gates, and a 
babble of voices ensued. The boys shouted excit- 
edly, pranced like long-imprisoned colts enjoying 
their first freedom, hugged one another, and threw 
up their hats and handkerchiefs. Soldiers talked 
excitedly and endeavored to edge nearer to the 
structure which fascinated and compelled their 
admiration. In spite of its performance, they still 
looked upon it in skeptical wonder. The Greasers, 
with unfeigned admiration, rubbed their dark 
palms caressingly over the cloth-covered wings. 
Several Indians, their blank faces for once expres- 
sive, stood fearfully on the outskirts of the crowd, 
and finally slunk away, breaking into a dogtrot as 
they took the trail to the cliffs. 

But it mattered not to the boys what the crowd 
might think or say — they were elated beyond the 
influence of the opinions of others. They sud- 


200 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

denly felt themselves grown to manhood — for 
they had done what men were doing — and, with- 
out exception, they felt inspired with a dauntless 
determination to master the thing which they had 
made, and learn to control it as Hawke had done. 

“ Take us up! Take us up! ’’ they cried at 
once, pressing around the aviator, who, though 
nearly exhausted from the strain under which he 
had been laboring, and choking for air, in this 
tight circle of humanity, was smiling happily. 
He too felt the intoxicating joy of triumph surge 
through his whole being, and forgot all external 
conditions. 

You must rest,’’ protested Mr. Phipps. 

‘‘ Yes, come right over to the house. We’ll 
have something cool to drink, and a light lunch,” 
seconded the captain. 

‘‘ Guess we’d better not try any more for to- 
day,” said Hawke to the boys. “ Just before I 
landed, one of the guy wires snapped.” 

Put her in the hangar then,” suggested Herb, 
willing to sacrifice his desire to the comfort of 
the aviator. 

“ Sure, you’ve done enough to-day,” put in 
Ply, not wishing to be selfish, although he would 


V 


In Indian Land 201 

have given a good deal to take a tnm in the ma- 
chine beside Hawke. 

With the aid of the bystanders the plane was 
put back into the shed. Ike was left to watch it 
until the crowd should disperse. 

We’ll have another demonstration soon,” 
said Hawke, noticing the disappointment depicted 
on the faces of the onlookers as they divined the 
intention to discontinue flying for that day. 

The plane has succeeded almost beyond my 
hopes,” Hawke said, as after luncheon he sat with 
the men and boys at the Crawford residence. 

My equalizing device has to be tested, but I’m 
sure it ’s going to be entirely adequate to carry at 
least six passengers at a time.” 

Well, you see you have a band of crack work- 
men,” laughed Mr. Crawford, taking the boys in 
with a gesture. 

That can be said with all seriousness,” re- 
plied Hawke earnestly. 

The week was spent in trying out the machine, 
Hawke and the boys making several test flights 
each day. At the end of that time, they knew be- 
yond a doubt that they could trust the Thunder 
Bird to do anything they wished. Hawke and 


202 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

five of the boys had ridden in it with safety for 
four hours, putting it to the most severe test. 

With unfailing patience and ready good will, 
Hawke took them, by ones, and twos, and often 
filling the machine to its capacity, explaining to 
them the principles of successful flight. It was 
impossible, however, in this short time, for all of 
the boys to become masters of the machine. Fly, 
however, showed unusual proficiency, and by Sat- 
urday night was enthusiastically begging to be al- 
lowed to take the machine up alone, a request 
which was of course persistently refused by his 
anxious father and mother. 

I’m astonished, though, at the ability the boy 
shows,” Hawke told Mr. Giles confidentially. 

They’re all first class, but Fly has the inborn in- 
stincts of a successful bird-man. He takes hold in- 
stantaneously, thinking, as it were, with his mus- 
cles, and handling his levers automatically, with 
the precision of an expert. All the boys have 
steady nerves and are going to acquire the poise 
and control of good fliers, but your son has un- 
usual intuition.” 

But you wouldn’t let him go up alone yet? ” 
said Mr. Giles, skeptically, though he might have 


In Indian Land 


203 


altered his refusal at this assurance from Hawke 
if Mrs. Giles had not protested anxiously. 

“ Well, no. Better wait until after the hunt. 
That’ll give them a good working basis,” advised 
Hawke. 

Oh, please, please, please,” pleaded Fly, 
whose anxiety to sail once, only just once, alone 
and unaided, up into the inviting blue clouds, and 
feel that he had at last achieved his great ambi- 
tion, prompted him to repeated entreaty that the 
privilege might be granted him. 

Time enough, my son,” said Mr. Giles indul- 
gently. 

But the time came sooner than any of them 
dreamed. 


CHAPTER XVII 


IN SIGHT OF THE ENEMY 

The following Monday morning, Herb tele- 
phoned that the marauder had again appeared at 
the Phipps ranch, and had killed off three of the 
fold, carrying one away. 

It was decided, therefore, to proceed at once 
with the hunt, and, when the capture of the thief 
had been accomplished, to continue the instruction 
of the boys. 

“ Dad thinks the best way to begin is to watch 
around the fold at night till the thing appears,*' 
said Herb. 

His suggestion was adopted, and that night the 
Fort Bayard boys and Hawke flew at dusk to the 
Bread Pudding ranch. It was not their first trip 
to the B. P. in the new plane; in fact, it had be- 
come quite a matter of course to drop in on Mr. 
Phipps, and, as the latter expressed it, ‘‘ tie the 
bird outside." 

The full moon had waned and should a chase be 
necessary they would be obliged to rely entirely 

204 


In Indian Land 


205 


on the acetylene lamps which, however, had been 
well tried out. They were not to be lit, however, 
until needed, lest the light should frighten away 
the enemy. 

Hawke, Herb, Gray, Fred, Fly and Jerry re- 
mained near the plane, which was stationed just 
inside the wire fence enclosing the sheepfold. 
Carl and Dunk went to the other side of the pas- 
ture, while Mr. Phipps and one of his herders took 
up their position near the entrance gate. Between 
them all, they hoped to get a glimpse of the un- 
welcome visitor. If Hawke or his companions 
sighted him first they were to give instant chase 
in the plane, if they could not shoot him, which 
would be practically impossible in the dark. The 
others agreed to wave their lanterns if they were 
the first to come in contact with the mysterious 
sheep stealer. The plane would then be put into 
use. 

Quietly but anxiously the pursuers watched, 
until, about nine o’clock, Jerry began to despair. 

Bet now we’re ready for him the old guy 
won’t turn up,” he said, disappointedly. 

‘‘ Don’t worry,” assured Herb. “ Like as not 


206 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

he won’t come ’round till midnight. That’s his 
usual calling time.” 

Eegular New York swell,” commented Gray. 

‘‘ Wonder what kind of a thing it is,” said 
Fred. 

“ I’m beginnin’ to think it’s a witch — never 
comes around in daylight, and nobody ever can 
get a peep at him,” responded Jerry. 

We’ll soon find out,” returned Herb. 

Least, I hope so.” 

How near’s Chance now? ” suddenly inter- 
rogated Fred. 

“ He’s within a couple day’s run of us,” re- 
sponded Hawke. ‘ ‘ Ought to pass over here Tues- 
day or Wednesday.” 

Gee, bet it’ll take a fall out of him to see an- 
other plane bobbin ’round here, won’t it? ” said 
Herb. 

‘‘We’ll surprise him, all right,” laughed 
Hawke. “ He’ll lose his bearings when he sees 
us put in our appearance. I’ll find out the time 
he’s cornin’ and run him a race.” 

“He’s clippin’ off a good record,” commented 
Fred, who had been reading the papers. “Goin’ 
to make it, I guess.” 


In Indian Land 


207 


Talking thus the hours sped by until it was 
after eleven o ^clock. The night descended thicker 
and blacker as time passed, and in the tense 
silence, broken now and then by a tuneful bleat, 
the boys huddled closer together and talked in 
hushed voices. 

“We sure could hear the flutter of a wing,’’ 
reflected Herb. 

The next moment they were on their feet, 
scarcely suppressing a yell. Something had 
rushed directly over them, fanning the air like a 
propeller, but with less noise. Quick as thought 
they were in the plane, the lamps were flashed on 
and they had mounted into the air. 

A huge flying bulk was just in front of them, 
and, as it swooped downward toward the sheep, 
a shout from Fred apparently startled it, for it 
rose again, and, whirling, circled rapidly above 
the fold. 

“It’s some kind of a flying monster all right,” 
whispered Herb excitedly. 

Hawke had made a rapid semicircle and was 
flying swiftly in pursuit, but, as he had lost time 
in turning, the object had become a part of the 


208 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


darkness and he could only steer in the direction 
in which it had seemed to be flying. 

CarPs waving his lantern/’ exclaimed Herb. 
‘‘ Must be over there.” 

Hawke veered quickly. The lamps, while shed- 
ding a bright glow for some distance around the 
machine, did not throw their light very far ahead. 

* ‘ There is it, under us, ’ ’ cried Fly. They could 
see a huge, black, floating mass, just beneath 
them. 

Circling again and again it was with the utmost 
difficulty that they kept it in sight. At last, how- 
ever, it struck a straight line for the cliffs. 

“We can’t get an aim if he keeps on swerv- 
ing,” said Herb. 

“ Steady, fellows,” warned Hawke, for they 
had moved about, twisting in their seats, to get 
a sight of the game. The plane was mounting 
steadily higher, and Hawke had reduced his 
speed, pursuing the enemy as well as he could, for 
it had adopted a zigzag course, flying to right and 
left and dipping up and down. 

“I’m going to try a shot anyway,” said Herb. 

The others unconsciously left the shooting to 
the southerner, who, it was naturally and rightly 


In Indian Land 


209 


supposed, would be glad to bag the animal that 
had given his father so much trouble. 

Young Phipps took aim at the first good oppor- 
tunity, and shot three times. It seemed to be 
without result, for the huge shape moved on, 
though its course became more uncertain than 
ever, and, although it seemed heading toward the 
mountain ranges, its flight was uneven and hap- 
hazard. 

‘‘ We must be over the mountains now,^^ said 
Fly, after a time. 

<< We’re about 1,800 feet above level,” re- 
sponded Hawke. 

At that moment the bird resumed its swift 
circles, flying downward. Pointing the nose of 
the plane toward the earth, Hawke followed it, 
making a thrilling spiral descent. 

“ Why, there’s the old tower,” cried Fred, 
when the plane had dropped far enough for its 
lights to play upon the surface below. 

“ And he’s circling down for it,” cried Fly. 

That’s his roost. I’ll bet,” exclaimed Jerry. 

“ Then it must be the Thunder Bird Carl told 
about — the one you saw when I tried to take that 


210 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


picture — the one that raised the storm/' jab- 
bered Fred disjointedly. 

“ And the one the old Indian is after," put in 
Gray. 

‘‘ Let him roost, and then we'll get him," sug- 
gested Herb. ^ 

But Hawke had altered his course, and was 
making swiftly in the direction of home. 

‘‘ Where you going? " shouted Fly in surprise. 
It had been necessary for them to raise their 
voices considerably, for the mountain torrents 
were distinctly heard below, while the noise of 
their own machine added made hearing difficult. 

<< We've got to get right back," responded the 
aviator, throwing on top speed. 

What — what for?" yelled Gray. We 
nearly had him. ' ' 

There's a wind rising, and I felt a splash of 
rain," returned the aviator. ‘‘We can't take 
chances over these peaks in a storm." 

As if to corroborate his statement there was a 
distant rumble. 

“ Thunder," gasped Jerry breathlessly, for the 
speed of the machine almost shut off his wind, and 


In Indian Land 


211 


like tlie other boys be was clinging tightly to his 
seat. 

I felt rain then, too,’^ shouted Herb. 

Another rumble, louder than the first, sent 
thrills down their backs. 

‘‘ It was the Thunder Bird all right,'’ yelled 
Fred. ‘‘ I told you I saw him that day." 

‘‘We know where he lives now, though," re- 
turned Fly. 

But they were dashing through space at such 
a terriffic pace that speech became impossible. 
Hawke was bending every energy to beat the 
storm. Already the wind had risen considerably, 
and he was obliged to concentrate his whole 
thought on the control of the machine. 

“ Make for the B. P.," requested Herb. 
“ Dad’ll be anxious to know how we come out; 
We can — " 

But the rest of his sentence was lost in a deaf- 
ening roar, while a flash of lightning split the 
darkness and revealed, below them, the stretches 
of pasture belonging to the Bread Pudding ranch. 

While they had been obliged to give up when 
victory was within easy reach, the boys were more 
pleased than otherwise at the adventurous turn 


212 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


things had taken. The flight by night, so eagerly 
anticipated, was becoming more exciting than 
they had expected. 

Before they realized it, they had skidded down 
and stopped in front of the ranch-house. But they 
could only pause long enough to allow Herb and 
Gray to dismount, for it was necessary to reach 
the Fort as quickly as possible and lodge the plane 
it its shed before the storm, whose threatening 
voice was growing constantly louder, broke upon 
them. 

The boys had no chance to exchange words with 
the rancher before, Carl and Dunk having taken 
the place of Herb and Gray, they were whisked 
upward again. And, though anxious to learn the 
result of their companion's flight, the Indian and 
his friend were obliged to wait until, just in time, 
they had shoved the plane back into the hangar 
and rushed to the Crawford residence. They had 
scarcely reached the veranda when the fury of the 
tempest was upon them. 

‘ ‘ Whew ! ’ ’ ejaculated Hawke, breathing a deep 
sigh of relief. That was a record run. If I had 
made that at an aviation meet I’ll bet they’d have 
awarded me some kind of a medal.” 


In Indian Land 


213 


He spoke lightly, and the boys never knew how 
wonderfully well he had made that flight. Not 
one aviator in a hundred would have been able to 
accomplish it with such coolness and accuracy as 
Hawke had displayed. Perhaps, after they had 
themselves learned to fly, they realized the pre- 
carious condition in which they had been that 
night and how much they owed their safe return 
to Hawke. 

They were greeted cordially by the captain 
when they arrived at the Fort, who listened, with 
unfeigned interest, to their rapid recital of the 
evening ^s events. 

But we’re goin’ back to-morrow,” said Fly, 
^ * and get him. For we know where he roosts. ’ ’ 
Yes,” said Hawke. “We must lose no time. 
We have the drop on him now, and I’ll run you 
all up there in the morning. You can let Herb 
and Gray know.” 

“ Telegram for Mr. Hawke,” announced Ike, 
appearing, dripping but smiling, at the screen 
door. 

“ Well, what do you think of that! ” exclaimed 
the aviator, his face suddenly growing grave as 


214 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


he read the wire, and handed it to the captain, 
who was quickly surrounded by the boys. 

‘ Mexican insurrectos threaten invasion of 
Texas,’ ” read Jerry’s father. ‘ Come im- 
mediately. Take charge aviation corps. Urgent.’” 
The message was dated from Juarez, and was 
signed by General Marley, commander of the 
border troops. 


CHAPTER XVin 


SUCCESS AT LAST 

The next day was a blue one for the boys. Ap- 
parently all their plans had been knocked side- 
ways. The hunt, for which they had worked and 
waited all summer, had been nipped in the bud at 
the moment of success. 

“ Let^s scout it, anyhow,’^ suggested Fred that 
evening, as the downcast group huddled together 
on Jerry’s veranda. 

What d’ye mean! ” asked Dunk, uninter- 
estedly. 

“ Well, make a trip up into the mountains and 
see what we can do,” continued the easterner. 

“ How you going to get across that ravine? ” 
disparaged Fly, who had been moping all day. 

It’s too wide even to throw a rope across.” 

‘ ‘ I could get across if you could span it with a 
rope ladder,” said Carl. 

Maybe Herb wounded him so badly he’s dead 
up there somewhere,” Jerry went on. ‘‘You 
know he told us over the phone that he and Gray 

215 


216 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

found some feathers about where he shot the other 
night. 

‘‘ Whether it’s a bird or not, it’s got wings,” 
said Carl. ‘‘ But if those feathers are as long as 
Herb said they were it can’t be an eagle.” 

Don’t care nohow,” responded Fly, shoviilg 
his hands deep into his pockets with an air of de- 
jection as he rose to his feet. ‘‘ Hawke maybe 
can’t be back this summer. Didn’t even have a 
chance to say good-bye to the B. P. bunch. And 
mother just won’t let me run the plane alone. Aw, 
I’m going home,” he continued thoroughly dis- 
gusted. Good night.” 

‘‘Wait a minute — here comes your father,” 
said Fred. 

“ Just got a letter from Hawke,” announced 
Mr. Giles, walking up to the veranda. 

“ What does he say? ” exclaimed Fred 
eagerly, the faces of all the boys brightening at 
once. A faint hope of the aviator’s early return 
sprang into their minds. 

“ Don’t get too excited if I tell you,” said Mr. 
Giles mischievously. 

This only served to make the boys more anxious, 
of course. 


In Indian Land 


217 


“ Well, he says he thinks Fly’s pretty steady 
and could handle the machine all right alone. So 
weVe decided to let you continue the hunt. We 
owe it to Phipps anyhow,” he added. 

What! ” yelled Fly, scarcely comprehending 
the good news at first. 

Hurray! ” shouted several of the boys. 

Keep cool,” laughed Mr. Crawford, but Fly 
was unable to contain himself for joy, and sing- 
ing gayly, began hopping around first on one leg 
and then the other. 

“ I knew it would come out all right,” said 
Dunk, although his attitude of a half hour before 
had not betokened very strong optimism. . 

“We’ll go right over to the Phipps ranch in 
the morning,” announced Fly, when he became 
calmer, “ tell Herb and Gray, and start right 
out. Maybe Herb can go up with me,” and he 
turned another handspring. 

“I’d like to see a trial flight first,” said the 
father. 

“ Just give me the chance,” retorted Fly. 

The next morning, before a skeptical audience 
composed of Mr. and Mrs. Giles, Captain Craw- 
ford and his wife, Mrs. Windham and Lieutenant 


218 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


Eivers, Fly practically repeated Hawke’s per- 
formance of the first day. 

“ My, it’s great! ” he exclaimed after the flight, 
his eyes shining and his face flushed. “ I could 
do it with Hawke, and I knew I could do it alone. ’ ’ 

The older ones were satisfied, and Fly was per- 
mitted to start out for the B.^P. to get Herb, if 
his father would allow him to go. It was planned 
that the others should ride, and going as far as 
they could with their horses, climb up to the spot 
near the tower. 

Mr. Phipps was at first reluctant, but a tele- 
phone conversation with Mr. Giles and Captain 
Crawford, strengthened by eager coaxing on the 
part of his son, finally gained his consent. Gray 
started off to meet the other boys with his pony. 

Fly and Herb remained at the B. P., for a while, 
to give the plane a thorough inspection, and to 
make a rope ladder they had previously planned 
to use if possible. 

About midway in their way they experienced 
some difficulty with the engine, and were obliged 
to make a landing in a pasture and remedy the 
difficulty. This took the better part of an hour., 

‘‘ I feel that we’re goin’ to get him to-day,” 


In Indian Land 


219 


said Herb, as Fly once more lifted the plane above 
the green meadowland. It was one of those rare, 
quiet, contented summer days, when even the 
bee’s buzzing sounded noisy. The mountains, 
with all their towering majesty, seemed challeng- 
ing the young aviators, who, calm and confident, 
rose steadily upward and forward, the fresh air 
blowing cool and sweet against their faces. It 
was a day such as fills the veins with a joyousness 
of life, a willingness to undertake anything, and a 
confidence that bespeaks success. 

They were soon passing swiftly over the rugged 
mountain’s face, its huge irregular boulders, 
tufted here and there with stubborn plant life, 
rapidly receding. The tall majestic firs, which, as 
the boys looked down from their superior height, 
dwindled to miniature Christmas trees with the 
morning dew still upon them glistening like toy 
candles, and the foaming torrents rushing down 
the time-scarred and waterworn ravines. 

Above all they could see, as they mounted 
higher, the gloomy old tower lifting its dark head 
to the sunshine, and rising out of a mass of rock, 
stone and dense growth. 


220 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

‘‘ Look! Look! ’^panted Herb when they at last 
circled above the mysterious dwelling. 

Fly looked down through the mica window at 
his feet and saw, crouching between the four walls 
of the roof, a monstrous feathered shape, ap- 
parently headless, its wings folded. Like some 
gorged dragon it lay there, contentedly wallowing 
in a bed of bones, skeletons, sheeps’ wool and meat 
still red, the remains of many an ill-gotten feast. 

Startled by the noise of the propellers, it drew 
out from under its wing its great shining black 
head, disclosing a vicious hooked beak. 

Meanwhile, the rest of the party had arrived 
on the other side of the ravine. They shouted at 
the boys in the air, but the tremendous noise 
caused by the roaring water and the whirring pro- 
pellers, drowned their voices completely. Herb 
and Fly had seen them, however. 

‘‘ Scare him out,” suggested Fly. ‘‘ Then they 
can all see him and have a shot.” 

I hate to shoot an enemy in the back,” said 
Herb. ‘‘ But he deserves it.” And he fired down 
into the roost. But the plane was going at such a 
speed that his aim was not true. The bullet struck 
the side of the structure, throwing up dust and 


In Indian Land 


221 


mortar. The creature fluttered and stirred, mov- 
ing its head about perplexedly, but remained in its 
nest. 

Herb shot a second time, just grazing his mark, 
picking oif some of the feathers on the monster’s 
back. At this time the crouching shape sprang 
upward with a sharp cry of anger, almost com- 
pletely hiding the top of the tower from view, so 
enormous was the spread of its wings. 

‘‘ There it is! There it is,” exclaimed several 
of the party on the back of the ravine. 

‘‘ An eagle,” gasped Fred. 

<< The Thunder Bird,” panted Carl. 

“ But what’s the matter with him?” cried 
Dunk. At the same moment, the boys, staring up- 
ward with fascinated eyes, gave a cry of alarm. 

The great creature seemed flying about wildly, 
furiously, without sense of, or regard for direc- 
tion, beating its immense wings against the air, 
and, instead of attempting to escape, flew straight 
for the plane, almost colliding with it. 

Fly, who had anticipated a chase, now found 
himself on the defensive, and was obliged to 
dodge, circle, swoop and whirl in a manner that 
made his head swim. Although almost near 


222 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


enough to touch the bird at times, the motion of 
the machine and the strange uncertain course of 
their antagonist made accurate aim impossible. 

Above them it flew, passing like a dark cloud 
over the machine, then veering down so suddenly 
that Fly was obliged to concentrate all his en- 
ergies to get out of its way. It was an equal con- 
flict between nature’s great king of the air, and 
the supreme handicraft of mechanical skill which 
had been made to conquer it in its own element. 

It must be blind,” said Herb, remembering 
that Carl had told them the Thunder Bird was 
sightless in the daylight. ‘ ‘ If I could only get a 
line on it! ” 

The boys below dared not shoot, lest their 
bullets go astray and strike their friends. The 
monster seemed possessed by an insane rage, 
throwing itself about in the air with blind reck- 
lessness. 

Now! ” exclaimed Fly, as the wily native of 
the air rushed below them. Herb, with the quick- 
ness of an experienced hunter, did not waste his 
chance. There was a loud report, a shrill blood- 
curdling cry, such as they had heard on two other 
occasions, and the creature’s inert bulk whirled 


In Indian Land 


223 


to the earth, landing heavily almost in front of 
Jerry. 

It was not yet dead however, and the boys made 
for a safe distance, as the monster, in its death 
struggle, furiously beat the ground with its pow- 
erful wings, springing upward again and again in 
a desperate effort to recover itself, each time fall- 
ing back. 

Finish him,’’ implored Fred. It’s a shame 
to have him suffer.” 

A second later a shot from Dunk’s rifle stilled 
the great bird’s fluttering form forever. Its 
frightful beak opened and closed, its beastlike 
talons sought to clutch support, its owl-like eyes 
became glazed and fixed. The Thunder Bird had 
killed his last sheep ! 

Hushed and silent the boys crowded around the 
huddled shape. Carl, taking hold of one of its 
wings, pulled it out to its natural spread. 

‘‘ About four feet,” he said. Must have a 
spread of ten. And about five feet from the end of 
its beak to the tip of its tail. ’ ’ 

Wonder how old he is? ” speculated Fred. 

Just then something fell in their midst. It was 


224 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


a note from Herb, weighted with a heavy memo- 
randum book. 

<< WeVe done the deed. Now for the reward,^’ 
it read. We can see something glistening like 
gold under a shelf in the roof. Ask Garl to get 
it. We’ll drop the ladder.” 

Carl waved his hat in assent, while Herb swung 
the rope ladder down, attempting to hitch it at 
some point on the side of the gorge near the tower. 
At the third trial, it lodged over a projecting rock, 
which jutted, hooklike, from the wall of the 
ravine. Carl caught the other end and fastened 
it. The crossing did not prove as perilous as it 
looked, for the rope held firm, and it was an easy 
trick for an Indian. 

After some fumbling among the shrubs, Carl 
disappeared, and the boys knew Ee must have 
found an entrance to the dwelling. They were 
right, for the Indian, through a low door obscured 
by shrubs, had crawled into the house of mystery. 
Though it was dark at first, he soon perceived a 
thin ray of light percolating through an opening 
in the roof. He was provided with matches, and 
lighting a few of these, he scrutinized the walls 
for some possible handhold by which he could 


In Indian Land 


225 


mount. Directly under tlie aperture through 
which the feeble light came he struck what seemed 
to be poles projecting from the sides of the tower. 

“ A ladder/’ he thought, and made short work 
of the climb. With little difficulty he scrambled 
through the roof-opening to the outside of the 
tower. A wall about five feet high ran around the 
edge of the roof, along the four sides of which was 
a projecting shelf several feet wide. In the center, 
cluttered with refuse of all kinds, was the abode 
of the Thunder Bird, to which he would never 
more return. 

Under the shelf in one comer was the shining 
object the boys had written of. Carl uttered an 
exclamation of surprise and delight when he 
found this to be a beautiful bowl, apparently of 
beaten gold, measuring about fifteen inches in 
diameter, and set with many semi-precious stones 
of varied hue. 

‘ ^ The Holy Bowl of the Medicine Men, ’ ’ he said 
wonderingly, astonished at its seeming newness. 
Though it must be decades old it appeared to have 
been recently polished. A vague thought of the 
mysterious Indian flashed through Carl’s mind. 
He jumped up on the shelf and held up to the ad- 


226 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

miring gaze of his companions below the brilliant 
trophy, which glittered with dazzling brightness 
in the sun. 

A shout greeted this sign, and, after looking 
around without success for further relics, he 
tucked the bowl under his arm and descended. 
Again pushing through the thick foliage that had 
obscured the low entrance, he came out, flushed 
and excited, holding the prize aloft. 

Suddenly the watching boys uttered a warning 
cry, but before he could comprehend it, Carl was 
seized around the waist by strong arpis and 
thrown to the ground with violent force. The next 
moment he found himself grappling with the 
strange Indian. 


CHAPTER XIX 


JUMPING A PEAK 

Before Carl had an opportunity to recover him- 
self the Indian had seized the golden bowl and 
was making off with it at top speed. It did not 
take the lad long to comprehend the situation, 
however, and springing to his feet, he soon over- 
took the would-be thief. Wresting the prize from 
him, and throwing it to one side, Carl met the 
attack with the strength, ability and skill only 
found in strong young manhood. But the older 
Indian was fully a match for him, and the 
struggle promised to be a long and hard one if 
Carl were left to fight it alone. 

This the other boys did not propose should be 
the case. Forgetting all fear for themselves in the 
face of CarPs danger, they immediately prepared 
to utilize the rope ladder, crossing even more 
quickly than Carl had done and surely with less 
caution, for their only thought was to come to the 
rescue of their friend. 

CarPs assailant, whose every energy was 

227 


5' 


228 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

strained to gain an advantage, did not hear their 
approach. Before he realized it he found himself 
helpless in the hands of the strong palefaces, his 
hands tied behind his back, a threatening Eem- 
ington, in the hands of Jerry, pointed meaningly 
in his direction. He was very much the worse for 
wear, his face having been severely scratched 
across the lines of paint, and his clothes consid- 
erably disarranged. 

Well, what shall we do with him? asked 
Dunk, turning to Carl. He ought to be pitched 
over the ravine.^’ 

But the Indian boy’s face wore a strange ex- 
pression. His eyes were wide and staring, and 
he stood, pale and open-mouthed, regarding his 
helpless enemy. 

‘‘ What’s the matter! ” cried Gray, alarmed. 

Carl did not reply, but walked up to the cap- 
tive, and, with a hand that shook slightly, ex- 
amined something that hung on a string around 
his neck. Then he pulled out the charm from 
under his own shirt. 

‘‘ Look,” he said huskily. 

The stones were exactly alike. 

Although the older Indian betrayed no signs of 



The struggle ])romised to be a long and hard one if Carl were 
left to fight it alone. But this the other boys did not ])ropose 
to allow, and they immediately began to cross on the rope ladder. 


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In Indian Land 


229 


surprise or emotion lie broke into an angry torrent 
of Apache. 

Carl, stepping forward, took out his hunting 
knife, and cut the other’s bonds. 

“Now get! ” he commanded, allowing himself 
the pleasure of one strong punch at the back of 
the conquered redskin, who lost no time in making 
his get-away. 

“ That’s my uncle,” said Carl coolly. “I’m 
civilized and educated, or I’d kill him. Come on, 
let’s get back.” 

The others thought it best not to make any 
further reference to the matter, and silently fol- 
lowed Carl, the bowl again in his possession, 
across the ladder spanning the cascade. At the 
same time the boys in the plane, who had watched 
the conflict with tense anxiety, started back to the 
Fort. 

“Gee, I can’t stand much more to-day,” 
ejaculated Fly, as they circled the tower for the 
last time. 

“ Strange what a lot can happen to a fellow in 
a short time,” commented Herb, reviewing ment- 
ally the many adventures in which they had all 
been involved that summer. 


230 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

But most important of all/’ continued FI7, 
“ we’ve laid the Thunder Bird low — we’ve done 
something for your father.” 

Now the next thing is for you to teach us all 
to aviate,” laughed the southerner. But I don’t 
believe I can ever handle a machine as you do.” 

‘ ‘ Sure, ’ ’ exclaimed Fly. ‘ ‘ Why you — ’ ’ but 
he stopped short with an exclamation of horror 
that fairly froze his companion’s blood. At the 
same moment. Herb was conscious that something 
— he knew not what — had happened. The loud 
insistent voice of the machinery was abruptly 
stilled. 

Looking perplexedly at Fly, he saw great drops 
of perspiration starting out on the young pilot’s 
forehead. “ The motor is dead,” he breathed, his 
throat and lips going dry. 

For a moment Herb’s heart seemed to stop in 
sympathy with the mechanism that had failed 
them. 

‘‘ Can’t you volplane,” he said giddily. 

“ Eocks, peaks, crags,” sputtered Fly. Oh, if 
he were only over the smooth meadow. But to vol- 
plane here would mean certain death. As it was, 
he was sliding along at a perceptibly lessening 


In Indian Land 


231 


speed. Any moment the machine might balk and 
rear, hurling them both to destruction. 

But Fly was plucky and after the first shock he 
recovered his nerve, bending every energy of mind 
and body to maintain his balance. To keep high 
enough and steady enough until they left the 
mountains was his sole endeavor. After that, he 
felt confident that he could volplane with safety 
into the meadow. Even now he could see this 
haven of inviting green tantalizingly near at hand 
— and yet so far away. Grudgingly he was 
obliged to slant, else the machine would rear and 
wrest the control from him. But the slightest in- 
cline was too much now, for it meant landing on 
the rocks. 

Though a fever raged in his brain, he was rap- 
idly calculating. Someway he must save Herb. 
That was his predominant thought. 

‘‘I’ll do it,” he suddenly exclaimed through 
his shut teeth, at the same moment swooping 
down with such rapidity that his companion’s 
head was jerked violently back, and he grabbed 
tight hold of his seat. Confident that the end had 
come, the southerner resolutely shut his eyes and 
relaxed. 


232 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


But he was sitting rigid a moment later, for the 
aeroplane had shot upward again with a jerk, 
mounting higher and higher, until it seemed ready 
to tip backwards and whirl to earth like the 
mortally wounded Thunder Bird. 

Fly! he implored, suddenly petrified with 
the fear that his companion had lost his senses and 
was deliberately throwing caution to the winds 
with hopeless recklessness. 

The suspense was only for a second, although 
that seemed to span an eternity. At the last mo- 
ment, when the plane seemed ready to tilt and 
somersault backwards, Fly fairly threw it for- 
ward with main force, and, as it plunged swiftly 
downward, he breathed a reassuring sigh. Below 
them they saw the carpet of the meadow spread 
out calm and serene, a pale slender stream wind- 
ing its peaceful course zigzag between flower- 
decked banks — gently flowing waters that would 
have reflected their dash to death and destruction 
as undisturbedly as it mirrored their safe descent. 

Dizzy and faint, but almost sick with joy, they 
landed gently on the bosom of mother earth. Fly 
had taken a desperate chance to clear the peaks, 
and had succeeded. 


In Indian Land 


233 


Safe! ’’ lie groaned, too weak to move from 
the plane. “ I^m so glad, old man,’’ he added 
huskily. If anything had happened to 
you — ’ ’ 

Why, it’s a couple of boys,” a cheerful voice 
was saying just behind them. 

Herb and Fly turned to see two men approach- 
ing the plane, and, at the same moment, their eyes 
took in another strange sight. A hundred feet or 
so behind them stood another plane ! 

I must believe it, for I have seen it with my 
own eyes, ’ ’ continued the speaker, a slender young 
fellow with a spare blond mustache. ‘‘You ac- 
complished a feat there, my boy, that I wouldn’t 
attempt for fifty thousand dollars! ” 

“ Who are you? ” asked Fly weakly. Surely 
this was an apparition. The nerve which had up- 
held him in the face of imminent danger seemed 
now deserting him. He felt like falling over in a 
limp heap, abandoning himself to the sick faint- 
ness which made his head swim. He saw the 
stranger as in a haze, and his voice came to him 
faintly out of the vast distance. 

“ I’ll get him some water,” said the other man. 
“ He looks sick.” 


234 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


No wonder,’’ exclaimed the other. I never 
saw such a performance as that in my life.” 

Is — is that plane yours? ” asked Herb, who, 
like Fly, did not know whether the two strangers 
were real beings or ghosts. 

“ Sure. I just had a silly little breakdown. 
Stopped to mend it. Then — great Caesar, I saw 
you fellows up there. How my brain went travel- 
ing when I realized the plight you were in. And 
you came through! A couple of kids! Who is 
he ? ” he continued, referring to Fly. ‘ ‘ Where did 
he learn to control like that — at his age! ” 

The speaker’s friend was forcing Fly to drink 
the water he had brought for him ^rom the stream, 
and when the boy had moistened his lips, the man 
bathed his brow and face with the solicitude of a 
brother. 

But Fly’s sinking spell was only momentary 
and he soon recovered his composure. 

Where you going? ” demanded their new 
friend breezily. ‘‘I’m going to take charge of 
you. You’re in no condition to fly any more to- 
day.” 

But the young aviator was made of stronger 
stuff. 


In Indian Land 


235 


Oh, I can handle her all right,’’ he said con- 
temptuously, a little ashamed of the weakness he 
had shown. 

What! ” ejaculated the blond young man, 
looking at his friend in amazement, as much as to 
say, Listen to that, will you! ” 

‘‘ Nothing doing,” he added, decidedly. 
^ ‘ Barkely, just take care of our baby — follow us 
up — while I whirl this young dare-devil to — 
where will it be? ” 

‘‘ Fort Bayard,” said Herb, laughing. Cer- 
tainly, this was an engaging young fellow, and he 
didn’t mind having him along at all. 

‘‘ Now, young man, I’m going to throw you out 
of that seat if you doi^’t move over, and let me 
run this thing! ” commanded the stranger. 

Hike! ” 

Fly good-naturedly gave way, for he shared 
Herb’s admiration and was thoroughly pleased 
with this new acquaintance. 

Who — who are you? ” asked Fly again, as 
the machine ascended. 

That’s what I want to know about you,” re- 
turned the stranger. ‘‘I’ll tell if you will. My 
name’s Chance.” 


236 The Boy Scouts of the Air 

Chance!’^ gasped the boys at once. 

* ‘ Sure. Ever hear of me ! ’ ’ 

You bet/’ answered Herb heartily. You 
know Hawke, don’t you? ” 

Hawke the government aviator? ” repeated 
the stranger in surprise. 

Yep.” 

Well, he helped us to build this machine, and 
taught us how to run it,” informed Fly. 

Build this machine? ” Young Chance scrutin- 
ized his informant as he would look upon a 
strange, supernatural being. 

Say,” he said. ‘‘We want fellows like you 
in New York. You wouldn’t mind making some 
good money, would you ? ” 

“I — I — ” began Fly, but he could not wield 
his tongue somehow. 

“ Got a father around the Fort?” asked the 
young aviator brusquely. 

“ Yes — yes, ’ ’ answered Fly. “You must meet 
him.” 

That evening, when Herb met the boys return- 
ing from their mountain trip, triumphantly bear- 
ing the Thunder Bird, which Dunk and Jerry car- 
ried with the aid of a stout branch stuck through 


In Indian Land 


237 


its bound feet, and happily flashing the golden 
bowl, he ceremoniously held up his hand for them 
to halt, demanding silence. 

“We formed a Boy Scout patrol,’^ he began 
strangely. “ Didn’t we? ” 

“ Why — yes,” replied Fred, wonderingly. 

“ That’s nothing.” Herb wrinkled his nose 
contemptuously. “ And shot a grizzly? ” he in- 
terrogated. 

“ Why yes,” answered Gray, regarding him 
with a puzzled expression. 

“ That’s nothin’,” repeated the southerner. 
“We built an aeroplane,” he went on. “ That’s 
nothin’. Mere trifle. We shot the Thunder Bird. 
Nothin’, nothin’ at all. That bowl’s nothin’.” 

“ Say, what you driving at,” exclaimed Jerry. 
‘ ‘ Spit it out quick, or you to the bug house. ’ ’ 

“ Because something has happened that makes 
everythin’ else look like a thunder clap when it 
quits.” 

“ What? ” 

“ Fly’s goin’ to New York to be an aviator with 
Chance! ” 

***** 

Vacation is over. We are again waiting for the 


238 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


train in the stuffy little depot at Silver City. Gray 
and Fred are there — they are going back to 
school. Mr. Phipps is there, smiling happily upon 
the handsome boy who is returning to college. 
Captain Crawford and his wife are there, proud 
of the stalwart young son they are sending to New 
Jersey, where he will complete his education at 
Princeton. Lieutenant Rivers and his wife are 
there, for Dunk is going to an eastern medical 
school. 

And Carl is there, for Carl too is going to col- 
lege. True, he lost the money he had saved for the 
purpose, but the golden bowl, which the boys 
persuaded him was his by right of conquest, 
proved to be of sufficient value to pay his way 
through and leave him a generous surplus. Thus, 
after all, the unselfish Indian realized his dream. 

One of the boys is missing — Fly. He left a 
month ago for New York, where he has already 
met Mr. Chance, and is showing promise of being 
one of the most successful bird-men of the day. 
Before leaving the Fort, he gave all of the boys 
sufficient instruction to enable them to fly alone, 
and to qualify for the aviation medal, which, with 
a number of other awards, for first aid, machinery. 


In Indian Land 


239 


marksmanship and stalking, were promptly 
awarded to the members of the Thunder Bird 
Patrol, at the recommendation of Hawke, who re- 
members them now and then with letters from 
Juarez. 

The Thunder Bird aeroplane is safely packed 
away at the Phipps ranch, where it is to remain 
until next summer, for, if all turns out well, the 
boys are again to spend their next vacation in New 
Mexico. 

As for the Thunder Bird himself, stuffed and 
mounted it occupies a prominent place in the 
Phipps ranch-house. So hideous is its aspect even 
in this harmless condition, that you would not care 
to stumble on it unawares in the dark, but it no 
longer makes nightly visits to the sheepfold for 
prey. 

The treacherous redskin, his idol dead, has dis- 
appeared, and, according to Tommy, has gone 
back to the Mexican gold fields. 

The antiquated train finally reaches the old 
depot, puffing and blowing as though short of 
breath. Our young friends scramble into the 
dusty coaches, stumbling over their suit cases, and 
bumping good-naturedly against one another. 


240 


The Boy Scouts of the Air 


There are reluctant but cheerful good-byes, and 
the wheels turn slowly, gathering speed as the 
last coach passes the station. The last we see of it, 
handkerchiefs are still fluttering and hats waving 
farewell. 




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rousing stories of the experiences and ex- 
ploits of three real girls who do things. 
Without being sensational, Mrs. Van Dyne has 
succeeded in writing a series of stories that 
have the tug and stir of fresh young blood 
in them. Each story is complete in itself. 

Illustrated i 2 mo. Uniform cloth binding, 
stamped in colors, with beautiful colored inlay. 

Fancy colored jackets. Price 6o cents each 



Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 


Good Books for Boys 


The Boy Fortune Hunters 
Series 

By FLOYD AKERS 

The Boy Fortune Hunters in Alaska 
The Boy Fortune Hunters in Panama 
The Boy Fortune Hunters in Egypt 
The Boy Fortune Hunters in China 
The Boy Fortune Hunters in Yucatan 
The Boy Fortune Hunters in the South Seas 

M r. AKERS, in these new books, has at a single 
bound taken the front rank as a writer for 
boys. The stories are full of adventure, yet clean, 
bright and up-to-date. The first volume tells of 
the exciting scenes in the early days of the Alaskan 
gold fields. The next book takes “The Boy Fortune 
Hunters’* to the “Canal Zone,” and the third story 
is filled with stirring incidents in a trip through 
Egypt. The fourth book relates exciting adven- 
tures in the Flowery Kingdom, and the fifth and 
sixth stories detail further adventures in Yucatan 
and among the South Sea Islands. 

Illustrated izmo. Uniform cloth bind- 
ings stamped in three colors. Stunning 
colored wrapper. Price 6o cents each 


Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 


ANNABEL 

By SUSANNE METCALF 

A GIRLS' book with a clever, quick-mo v- 
ing plot is unusual. ANNABEL is 
that kind. The heroine is a lovable girl, 
but one with plenty of snap — her red hair 
testifies to that. Her friend. Will Carden, 
too, is a boy of unusual 
qualities, as is apparent 
in everything he does. 

He and Annabel make 
an excellent team. 

The two, the best of 
chums, retrieve the for- 
tunes of the Carden 
family in a way that 
makes some exciting 
situations. The secret 
of the mysterious Mr. 

Jordan is surprised by 
Annabel, while Will, in 
a trip to England with an unexpected cli- 
max, finds the real fortune of the Cardens. 

ANNABEL is a book whose make-up is 
in keeping with the high quality of the story. 

Beautifullfover and jacket in colors ^ 12 mo. Illustra- 
ted by Joseph Pierre Nuyttens. Price 60 cents 



Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 



Bunty Prescott 
at Englishman’s Camp 

By MAJOR M. J. PHILLIPS 

' I 'AKE a boy away from the stuffy schoolroom 
and turn him loose away up in the jack pine 
country — the land of deer and bear and trout, and 
he will grow “fat and saucy” — ^as did Bunty. And 

^ 

f V full of boy interest, 
1 1 written by a man 
^ who knows boys as 

PPF he knows the woods 

i IvLi O A * streams — a 

ATENGUSHMAN’SCAMP 

learning something new of the lore of out-of-doors — 
hunting, fishing, camping out. 

Snappy cover stamped in three colors ^ and three-color 
jacket. Illustrated by Emile Nelson. Price $i.oo 


Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 


Azalea 


By ELIA W. PEATTIE 

The first book of the *‘Blue Ridge’* Series 

A zalea is the heroine of a good, wholesome 
story that will appeal to every mother as the 
sort of book she would like her daughter to read. 
In the homy McBirneys of Mt. Tennyson, down in 
the Blue Ridge country, 
and their hearty moun- 
tain neighbors, girl 
readers will find new 
friends they will be glad 
to make old friends. 

This book marks a 
distinct advance in the 
quality of books offered 
for girls. No lack of 
action — no sacrifice of 
charm. 

Four half-tone illustrations 
from drawings by Hazel 
Roberts. Attractive cover 
design, $i.oo. 




The second title In THE BLUE RIDGE SERIES 
will be published in 1913 


Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 


Exhilarating Books for Girts of Today 


The Flying Girl Series 

By EDITH VAN DYNE 

Author of "Aunt Jane's Nieces" Series 

C APITAL up-to-the-minute stories for girls and young 
f>eople, in which the author is at her very best. Thrilling 
and full of adventure, but of that wholesome type par- 
ents are glad to put in the hands of their daughters. Two 
titles: 

The Flying Girl 

Orissa Kane, self-reli- 
ant and full of sparkling 
good nature, under-study 
for her brother, prospec- 
tive inventor and aviator 
whose experiments put 
the Kane family into 
great difficulties, in the 
crisis proves resourceful 
and plucky, and saves 
the day in a most thrill- 
ing manner. 

The Flying Girl 
and Her Chum 

This story takes Orissa 
and her friend Sybil 
through further adventures that test these two clever girls 
to the limit. A remarkably well told story. 

i2mo. Bound in extra cloth with design stamp- 
ing on cover and fancy jacket. Printed on high 
grade paper. Illustrated in black and white. 

Price 6 o cents each. Postage 12 cents. 



Publishers The Reilly & Britton Co. Chicago 



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